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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659709">Learning To See</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal'>Katzedecimal</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Disconnected [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Good Omens (TV)</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Ablist language, Agender Character, Food, Gen, Gender Fluid Character, Goats, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, The Dowlings are homophobic, The Dowlings' A+ Parenting (Good Omens), Therapy Techniques, Trans Character, Veterinary Medicine, bickerflirting, cw: rape mention, detailed descriptions of alternative therapies, exploration of gender and gender presentation, minor character afterlife, no goats were harmed during this fic, non-detailed mentions of conversion therapy camp</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-02-11</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2021-04-18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-04-28 15:14:30</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Mature</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>18</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>41,956</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/22659709</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/Katzedecimal/pseuds/Katzedecimal</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>A young man escapes into the night, guided only by visions he doesn't understand and the wisdom imparted to him long ago by a kindly gardener and a goth nanny.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Aziraphale &amp; Crowley &amp; Warlock Dowling</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>Disconnected [3]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/1434115</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>513</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>205</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. the Vision of the Lone Car on the Highway</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><ul class="associations">
      <li>For <a href="https://archiveofourown.org/users/kaldannan/gifts">kaldannan</a>.</li>



    </ul><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Set in the same universe as <i>Ruffled Feathers</i>.  Readers of that story will see some familiar names.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a dark and cloudy night, threatening rain.  </p>
<p>
  <i>Don’t run.</i>
</p>
<p>He’d left his bag and his belongings, carrying only the essentials in his leg pack, hidden under his hoody, strapped to his trousers. </p>
<p>
  <i>Don’t walk too fast.</i>
</p>
<p>Thunder rolled.  He put on his sunglasses for a moment.  It was too dark to see with them on but he didn’t need to see.  He needed to See.</p>
<p>He walked, staying close to the woods that edged the lane.  After twenty minutes, he reached the highway.  </p>
<p>It started to rain.  He pulled his hood up and kept walking.  <i>Don’t let your guard down now.</i></p>
<p>In the distance, headlights.  He crossed the road and kept walking.  He put on his sunglasses and studied the approaching car. </p>
<p>
  <i>This is it.</i>
</p>
<p>He stepped out into the road.  The car slowed to a stop. He put his sunglasses on and went around to the driver’s side window.  <i>Yes.  This is the right one.</i>  He swallowed and said, “Please help me.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“You hungry?”</p>
<p>They were the first words the driver had spoken since letting him into the car over an hour ago.  He nodded, “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Probably need the toilet soon, too, eh?”</p>
<p>He nodded again, “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Gas station up ahead.  You can grab a snack and the loo there.”</p>
<p>“Thanks.”  And that was all, for the next fifteen minutes until the driver pulled into the gas station.  He got out and went into the shop to use their restroom and buy a sandwich and chips and a bottle of water.</p>
<p>When he came back, the driver was on the phone.  “…Yeah I found what I came for, I’m on my way back now.  I’ll call again when we’re back across the border.  Stay on standby in case we run into trouble, will you?  Betcha.  Love ya!”  They cut the call.</p>
<p>He swallowed and took a step closer to the car.  “…Border?  W-where are you going?”  </p>
<p>The driver gazed at him levelly, “Back home.  Canada.”</p>
<p>He hadn’t Seen <i>that</i> coming!  “Oh,” he said, dismayed, “I… I can’t go to Canada.”</p>
<p>The driver kept gazing at him and he shivered.  He’d been gazed at like that before, that kind of gaze was so, so familiar.  “What have you got to lose?” the driver asked softly, “You’re wearing dark green and dark grey, that’s night camouflage.  You were walking on a highway in the middle of nowhere and you have nothing, not even a backpack.  You’ve only got a motorcycle pouch hidden under your hoody, which, though inadequate for rain, is heavy enough to protect you from the cold for a little while.  You’ve planned this.  You’re escaping.”</p>
<p>He tensed, “…Are you going to call my parents?”</p>
<p>“Phht!  How would I do that?  Got them on speed dial, do I?”</p>
<p>“The police?”</p>
<p>“Do you want me to?”</p>
<p>He shook his head.</p>
<p>“Then I won’t,” the driver shrugged and got back into the car.</p>
<p>After dithering for a moment, he followed.  “Who were you talking to?”</p>
<p>“My twin sister.  She knows to expect us.”</p>
<p>“W-why were you in the States?”</p>
<p>“Following a hunch,” the driver grinned at him as the car started moving again, “You know?  When you just have a feeling you should do something, like there’s something you gotta find?”</p>
<p>“Did you find it?”</p>
<p>The driver winked, “Sure looks that way.”</p>
<p>“Me?” he blinked again, startled.  He resisted the urge to put on his sunglasses again.</p>
<p>“Yup,” the driver said, “The border’s another forty-five minutes.  I want to get through, then we can stop for something to eat if you want.  Or you can sleep in the back seat.  It’ll be another three hours to  our farm after we clear the border.”</p>
<p>He blinked yet again, “You have a farm?”</p>
<p>“Yup!  Forest, fields, gardens, we even have a pond.  The kids love it.”</p>
<p>“You have kids?”</p>
<p>“Yup, lots of ‘em.  Got three at home right now, the others are in school.”</p>
<p>He shifted uncomfortably, “I’m an only child.”</p>
<p>The driver shrugged, “Well if you can’t get used to it, sing out and we’ll work something out. We’re pretty flexible.”</p>
<p>He blinked yet again (he was doing an awful lot of blinking…)  “You’re… taking me to live with you?”</p>
<p>The driver looked at him, “Got anywhere else to go?”</p>
<p>He stared in front of himself, unseeing.  He’d long had the fantasy of going back to England and finding the only people he’d ever felt really cared about him… but those people had been paid to care.  They’d probably moved on with their lives and wouldn’t want him burdening them.  He wouldn’t be able to support himself in England anyways.  <span class="small">”…No.”</span></p>
<p>The driver smiled and extended a hand awkwardly across the steering wheel, “I’m Nuriel.”</p>
<p>“Warlock,” he said softly.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Vision of the Opposite Twins</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“You’re safe here,” Jacob said suddenly, “Whatever you ran away from, you’re safe.  Muriel and Nuriel are great and the other kids here.  They’re really accepting, really…”  His throat closed on whatever he had been going to say next and his eyes were abruptly shiny.</p>
<p>Warlock watched him.  He nodded slowly, “That’s great to hear.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>The old car roared along the motorway, heading east.  The radio was playing some old band that Dad liked, he said it was one of the reasons he’d hired Nanny, she had good taste in music.  He loved it when Nanny took him driving in her old car.  She hardly ever did, so it was special, so special.  He missed the smell of old leather and patchouli and musk and just the faintest smell of rotten egg.  Nanny shook his shoulder, “Hey, we’re here.  Wake up…”</i>
</p>
<p>“Wake up!  We’re here.”</p>
<p>“…Nanny?”  No, not Nanny, the voice was different… </p>
<p>“Sorry, just me,” said Nuriel, grinning, “Let’s get you to bed.”</p>
<p>Recent memories rushed back.  “Oh… right.  …Sorry.”</p>
<p>Crossing the border had been… interesting.  Warlock had been so nervous, he felt he would faint or throw up or both.  He had his passport (he always had his passport) but his nerves were screaming at him that the border guard had been alerted, the police were already looking for him… </p>
<p>Nuriel had shown their own passport with an odd little flick of their fingers and the border guard just… passed the car through.  Didn’t even give Warlock a second look.   He breathed a sigh of relief as Nuriel floored the car and pulled back out onto the highway.</p>
<p>A single tall street light cast an eery glow.  They were at the end of a lane.  An old farmhouse stood nearby, mostly dark but two windows glowed, one on the upper storey, one down.  Nuriel parked the car and led him past the dark shapes of trees, through a short bootroom, into the glowing warmth of a kitchen.  A small woodstove provided welcoming heat, classical music was barely audible on the radio, and a woman sat at the table with a teapot.  She stood up and reached to clasp his hands.  “Welcome to our home.  I’m Muriel,” she said, and her smile was so, so warm, it made Warlock’s heart ache.  It reminded him so much of another smile.</p>
<p>“Warlock,” he managed. </p>
<p>“So glad you could join us, Warlock.  Are you hungry?  Do you want something to eat or a shower?”</p>
<p>“Maybe just some water, please?”</p>
<p>Nuriel crossed to the sink to fill a glass for him.  “And then bed, yes?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yes please?  I’m sorry to put you out.”</p>
<p>Muriel gave him an odd look, “You’re not.”  The floor creaked and a young person appeared at the kitchen door.  “Jacob, this is Warlock.  Would you be so kind as to show him where the washroom is and take him up to bed?  Marcie’s old room will be fine.”</p>
<p>The boy nodded, “Okay.  Hi, I’m Jacob.  Follow me.”</p>
<p>So Warlock did.  After showing him the bathroom, he followed Jacob through a door and up a musty-smelling staircase to the second level.  A red-shaded lantern hung by chains from a boss in the steeply-pitched roof.  Windows looked out over fields and trees.  Jacob led him to one of the bedrooms and Warlock pulled off his damp hoody and looked around at the small room, furnished with a bunk bed and dresser.  His eyes lingered on the pride flags pinned beside the mirror.</p>
<p>Jacob watched him.  “You sure you don’t want a shower?”</p>
<p>Warlock felt damp and cold and grimy and wrung out like a towel.  “Yeah,” he sighed, pushing his hand through his hair and wincing at the gritty feel, “To be honest, I think if I tried, I’d fall over and drown.”</p>
<p>Jacob nodded.  He turned to the chest of drawers and opened one, pulling out a t-shirt and a pair of flannel pyjama trousers which he offered to Warlock.  He looked like he wanted to say something.  “There’s a thundermug under the bed,” he said instead.</p>
<p>“A…what?”</p>
<p>“Thundermug,” Jacob grinned, “Chamber pot?  Big mug, used for a toilet.  We use them at night if it’s really cold or we don’t trust ourselves not to fall down the stairs.”</p>
<p>Warlock thought about the turning narrow staircase and nodded. </p>
<p>“You’re safe here,” Jacob said suddenly, “Whatever you ran away from, you’re safe.  Muriel and Nuriel are great and the other kids here.  They’re really accepting, really…”  His throat closed on whatever he had been going to say next and his eyes were abruptly shiny.</p>
<p>Warlock watched him.  He nodded slowly, “That’s great to hear.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, so… sleep well, okay?  Like, I mean that.  You’re safe.  It’s safe to sleep.”</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Warlock said softly and Jacob left the room, pulling the old door closed behind him.  After a moment, Warlock unbuckled his leg bag and pulled off his damp clothes.  He pulled on the t-shirt and flannel trousers then put on his sunglasses and looked around the room.  He took them off again and sighed.    Then he lay down on the lower bed and was asleep before he’d fully tucked himself in.</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>It was a bright and partly cloudy day when Warlock awoke.  He looked around at the unfamiliar surroundings then remembered.  He sat up to look around again.  He looked down at himself and wondered if it was okay to go downstairs in just a borrowed t-shirt and pyjama trousers then shrugged.  He got up, raked a hand through his gritty hair and made a face.  Then he opened the bedroom door.  On the floor in front of him was a folded towel with a note pinned to it.  The note invited him to take fresh clothes from the dresser and have a shower.  Warlock sighed with relief.  He picked up the towel and went down the creaky old stairs.</p>
<p>He heard voices but decided on a shower first.  He wanted a little time to psych himself up.  People were going to have questions and he didn’t know how to answer them.   He flushed the toilet then started the shower and let the hot spray enfold him. </p>
<p>He felt a little more human after that. </p>
<p>He shuffled out of the bathroom in his borrowed clothes and looked around at what appeared to be the main room of the house.  It was old, with carved lintels over the doors.  Voices were coming from the kitchen area and he followed them to get his first good look at his hosts. </p>
<p>Nuriel had pale white skin with a hint of rose to it, with yellow blond hair and black eyebrows, a look that reminded Warlock of Orlando Bloom as Legolas.  Muriel had dark black skin with long curly hair that fell in thin ringlets around her shoulders.  </p>
<p>And they were twins.  Their features were identical.  Warlock had seen something like it once, on the internet, but seeing it in person was startling. </p>
<p>But not nearly as startling as what he saw through his sunglasses.</p>
<p>Muriel turned and smiled at him, “Did you sleep?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock nodded, “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“What do you eat?” she asked next.</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, “Anything, I guess.  Uh, I’m allergic to mushrooms and blue cheeses.”  </p>
<p>Muriel whipped around to write that on a whiteboard list on the wall, “Eggs for breakfast?  Yogurt parfait?  Smoothy?  What would you like?”</p>
<p>“Um, yogurt, I guess?”  A dish layered with yogurt, granola and fruit was placed before him.  He started to eat.  “Um… um… I guess you have questions…”</p>
<p>Nuriel smiled at him, “Oh, lots of them!”</p>
<p>“Ohmygod, soooooo many questions!” Muriel grinned.</p>
<p>“But the real question,” Nuriel smiled, “Is how many do you want to answer?  Because you don’t have to answer any of them, from anyone.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Okay.”</p>
<p>“Okay!” Nuriel clapped once, “Starting with! - What would you like us to call you?  And what pronouns would you like us to use when we refer to you?”</p>
<p>Warlock blinked.  He blinked again.  “Um… Warlock is fine… or Lock… um… he, I guess…”  He felt the pressure of tears.</p>
<p>Nuriel watched him closely.  “Well maybe that’s what you’re here to discover.”</p>
<p>“Um.. Um.. Where is ‘here’?”</p>
<p>“Ontario!” Nuriel grinned, getting up and gesturing to the window, “Lots of space for you to run around and get into mischief!  You like to garden?  Farm?  Snowshoe?  Ski?  Roll around in the dirt?  Feed chickens?  We gotcha covered!  You like to stay indoors and read all day?  Surf the net?  Play games?  We got that covered too!”</p>
<p>Warlock started to smile <i>”It’s got sports and fishing and shooting!  Manly sports!  For manly men!</i> …he snuck his arm around his queasy stomach.</p>
<p>And looked up at a light tapping on the table.  “Hey,” Nuriel repeated, “Breathe with me,” and inhaled audibly; Warlock followed.  “Feel the breath in your nostrils.”  Warlock nodded.  “Where are your hands and feet?  What are you sitting on?”</p>
<p>“A… chair?” Warlock said, feeling confused about what he was supposed to do.</p>
<p>“And where is your mind?”</p>
<p>Abruptly Warlock’s throat closed and he felt the sting of tears.  “My dad,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Breathe with me.  Feel the air in your nostrils.  What do you smell?”</p>
<p>“Fruit… flowers… some kind of weird musty smell…”</p>
<p>“What are you sitting on?”</p>
<p>“A chair.”</p>
<p>“What does it feel like?”</p>
<p>“It’s hard.  It’s warm.  It feels solid, it doesn’t wiggle.”</p>
<p>“And where is your mind?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, understanding better.  “Here.  Here.”</p>
<p>“Okay… time for a question you don’t have to answer. Ready?”  Warlock nodded.  “I looked up where I found you last night.  The only thing in the area is a lodge billing itself as a youth wellness camp.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  “Yeah.  I came from there.  It’s… they take kids like me and and make us be normal.”</p>
<p>Muriel set the teapot down and three cups, and sat down.  “What kind of kids like you?”</p>
<p>“Sissy kids, nancy boys,” Warlock swallowed.  He looked away, whispering another word he had heard so often from his parents. </p>
<p>Muriel and Nuriel looked at each other and nodded.  “And what kind of normal is that, that they make you try to be?” Muriel continued. </p>
<p>“Straight, I guess. Straight and.. And… normal.  Not weird, not… not quirky, not… not a fucked-up scatterbrain,” Warlock pressed his fingers to his forehead and looked away.</p>
<p>“Conversion therapy camp?” Nuriel asked gently.  Warlock paused a moment then nodded. </p>
<p>“Breathe with me,” Muriel said, and inhaled.  Warlock obeyed. “Where are your hands and feet?  What are you sitting on?   What is your stomach feeling?  What is your heart feeling?  What is your head feeling?”  She walked him through grounding questions, helping him centre himself in the present.  “Where are you?”</p>
<p>“…In a farm in Ontario?  In Canada?”</p>
<p>“And where is your mind now?”</p>
<p>“Here.  I’m back here now.  I was by the side of the road but now I’m here.”</p>
<p>“You were right to defend yourself by taking yourself away from that situation,” Nuriel said, “Now you are here, and here is a place that’s safe for people who are quirky and weird and not straight.  Here is a place that’s safe for people who are he-I-guess.  Here is a place that’s safe for people who are that kind of normal.”  Warlock nodded, trying desperately to hold back tears.  “And here is a place that’s safe for people who are he-I-guess to cry.”</p>
<p>After he had cried himself out, Muriel said, “Ready for another question?”  Warlock wiped his face and nodded.  “From a place like that, you’re likely to be missed.  Who is likely to look for you?”</p>
<p>“My parents,” Warlock admitted, “My dad.”</p>
<p>Nuriel nodded, “You asked last night if I was going to call them.  Is that something you’d prefer not to happen?”</p>
<p>“Please don’t.”</p>
<p>“Is there someone else you’d prefer to call?”  Warlock shook his head, looking defeated. “Nanny?”</p>
<p>“Nanny left when I was eleven,” Warlock sighed, “I haven’t seen her since.  She lives in England, anyways.  And anyways, she was paid to take care of me.  It’s different.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Muriel nodded, “Then we’ll take care of you.  For now, what do you need now?”</p>
<p>“Um, I guess I should wash my clothes.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  Let’s go wash your clothes.”</p>
<p>Warlock had never done laundry before.  His parents had always had servants to do stuff like this. This wasn’t just learning to wash clothes, though.  Muriel encouraged him to feel the movements of his muscles and the surfaces under his hands, the aromas of the detergents and the water, the feel of the cloth.  All of it helping to keep him focusing on what he was doing in the present. </p>
<p>Not on what had brought him here.  Not on <i>the cold rain, shivering, wondering if his vision would be correct after all or would he be left wandering the highway in the middle of the night or worse</i></p>
<p>“…And where is your mind?”</p>
<p>“…on the highway,” Warlock whispered.</p>
<p>“Where you got yourself out to,” Muriel encouraged, “Where you rescued yourself to.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  Yeah…  Then Nuriel drove up.”</p>
<p>“Good.  Good.  And where are you now?”</p>
<p>“I’m here.  We’re doing laundry.”</p>
<p>“And where is your mind now?”</p>
<p>“I dunno how to do laundry.”</p>
<p>Muriel laughed, “Then we’ll just have to teach you.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>
  <i>bizarre light green and flickering he looked up to see it dappling across the scales of the large black snake sliding out of the tree canopy staring at him flicking its tongue its eyes were like harvest moons</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>strange monster turning its head not a man no though man-shaped with red hair rippling down its back between its coal-black wings turning its head showing its pale face beneath its black brows its eyes were like harvest moons</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>”Hellspawn”</i>
</p>
<p>Warlock jerked awake, gasping for breath.  Then he lurched out of bed and reached for his notepad and pencil, to write down the dream before it faded entirely.</p>
<p>He swallowed, breathing slowly to calm his racing heart.  Something about the dream… </p>
<p>The snake, he realized.  He’d Seen the snake before.  He flipped through his notebook, irritated.  It was a lot easier to search his notes on his phone but he hadn’t dared take <i>that</i> with him.  Yes, here it was… The vision of the man on the couch, one of the stranger ones.   He’d had a vision of a man dressed in an old-style beige suit, lying on a couch with an enormous black and red snake, much like sister black snake of his childhood but much too large.  The man lay entwined with the snake, caressing its cheek and jaw and gazing at it as tenderly as he might a lover.  And the world had known no greater or more enduring love than the love between this man and this snake. </p>
<p>Which was… really effin’ creepy, the more Warlock thought about it.  His visions and dreams seldom had context but that one was just weird and he’d Seen it a couple of times now.  He was a little worried that he was Seeing a Dickensian recreationist or ageing steampunk enthusiast zoophile with a reptile kink.  But the snake, yes it was the same kind of snake.  Just like sister black snake but much too large.  </p>
<p>He got up, hoping to go and get some water, and opened the bedroom door.  Jacob looked up from where he sat on the floor in front of the upstairs stove, with his sibling who’d been introduced as Avery.  Jacob took one look at Warlock’s face and immediately offered him a mug, “You want some tea?” He gestured at the small metal teapot sitting on top of the stove, “It’s Sleepytime.  You wanna sit with us for a bit?”</p>
<p><i>Smell the tea.  Feel the warmth of the cup.  Sit down, feel the floor underneath you.</i>  Warlock nodded.  </p>
<p>“You wanna play a game or something?”</p>
<p>“Maybe,” Warlock said, “Maybe something… kinda lame… like Bejewelled… or Neko Atsume…”</p>
<p>“Nothing wrong with lame, Neko Atsume is cute as fuck and I accept no arguments,” Avery grinned at him, “I’ll get my tablet.”  </p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  “I actually really like Neko Atsume,” he admitted. </p>
<p>“Tah-dahhhh!” Avery presented the tablet as though it were an award, “Go ahead!  I got most of the special cats but there’s a few new ones I haven’t got yet so if you get any, nab ‘em for me!”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Warlock smiled, “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“And if you need hugs, we’re your peeps!”</p>
<p>“Yup!” Jacob sat up, agreeing, “Just ask!  We love hugs!”</p>
<p>“Hugs R Us!”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Warlock laughed. </p>
<p>“Cenn says we’re gonna go shopping tomorrow after school and get you some clothes,” Avery said.</p>
<p>“’Cenn?’” asked Warlock.</p>
<p>Avery nodded, “Nuriel, yeah, Muriel’s our Mom and Nuriel’s our Cenn.  They’ve been my Mom and Cenn for eight years!”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  Avery had been introduced as fifteen. “So, you were seven when they adopted you?”</p>
<p>“Yup!” Avery beamed proudly, “Jacob’s adoption got finalized last year!”</p>
<p>Jacob beamed, “Yup!  And they let me start on T right away!  I’ve been on T for a year!”</p>
<p><i>T, that’s… testosterone,</i> Warlock remembered.  He smiled, “That’s great!”</p>
<p>“You should come with us to Toronto when I get my next T shot,” Jacob suggested.</p>
<p>“Yes!  Mom and Cenn make a big day trip of it, we all get the day off school and we all go and have fun!”</p>
<p>“That sounds great,” Warlock said again, “Um, what about whose room I’m in?”</p>
<p>Jacob nodded, “Marcie?  It’s okay, she’s gone to university, she won’t be back for a while probably.  Don’t worry, she won’t mind, she knows how it is.”</p>
<p>“And Jasmine comes back on weekends.”</p>
<p>Jacob swallowed his tea, “Mm, yeah, do you know any sign language?”</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, “Kind of.  My nanny taught me British Sign Language and I took a little ASL when I got to America but I haven’t really kept it up.  Why?”</p>
<p>“Jazz is Deaf, she goes to the residential Deaf school in Belleville.  That’s cool, we’ll help you practice!”</p>
<p>“Okay!”</p>
<p>“Heyyyy,” Muriel called, coming up the stairs, “It’s after ten and you two have school tomorrow.”</p>
<p>“Sorry, Mom,” Avery said, “We’re just chilling with Warlock ‘cause he needed chilling with.”</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, understanding, “Alright then.  Carry on chilling, however long you need.”</p>
<p>“Thanks, Mom!” Avery beamed, then looked back at Warlock, who was</p>
<p>
  <i>’Are Mummy and Daddy fighting again?’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>’Yes.  Did they wake you?’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>’What are they fighting about?’</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>’More of the same.  It sounds like your Daddy didn’t like your report.’</i>
</p>
<p><i>’I’m <b>trying.</b>  I know the words but I don’t know what they say!’  He took a deep breath to sigh, filling his nostrils with</i> the musty smell of old wood and wallpaper.  He blinked and looked up. </p>
<p>“…And where’s your mind?” Muriel said.</p>
<p>Warlock stared into his cup.  “England,” he sighed, “Thinking about sign language made me think about my old Nanny.”</p>
<p>She watched him carefully, “How does that memory make you feel?”</p>
<p>Warlock sighed again, “Sad, I guess.  I really miss her.  I guess sometimes it felt like she was the only one who-”  He cut himself off and shook his head.</p>
<p>“And she taught you sign language?” Avery said, glancing at Muriel, “That’s pretty awesome!”</p>
<p>“Is it different from American Sign Language?” Jacob asked, also with a quick glance at Muriel.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, yeah it is. Even the finger spelling is totally different.”</p>
<p>Jacob grinned, “Can you show us?  Jazz’ll love it!”</p>
<p>“Yeah, sure.”</p>
<p>Avery glanced at Muriel and whispered, “We got this, Mom.”</p>
<p>'Okay,’ she signed back, ‘If you need help, Cenn and I are downstairs.  You have your phone?’  Avery nodded.  ‘Okay, good.  Don’t worry about school tomorrow.  Help him first.’</p>
<p>‘Will,’ Avery signed, ‘Love you, good night!’</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Warlock's language<br/>For the last 6 years, Warlock has been growing up among highly privileged, entitled people and his language reflects the casual racism, sexism, and ablism he's been exposed to and unconsciously absorbed because he no longer had a conscientious gardener to correct him.  Add in the blatant homophobia of his parents and Warlock's language is, to put it bluntly, a mess.  I'm trying to keep his language to a minimum, to balance indicating the influences he's been growing up with, without fully Going There because yeah let's try to end normalizing this stuff.</p>
<p>Cenn<br/>This is an agender word for a parent from Aenglisc (Old English), <a href="https://nonbinary.wiki/w/index.php?title=Gender_neutral_language_in_English">currently being used as an agender nickname</a>, like Mom and Dad.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. The Vision of the Dancing Gardener</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warlock was wrapped up snug in a blanket, full from supper, and drifting in a relatively peaceful state.  Then the news headline changed and he blinked.</p>
<p>Muriel called over her shoulder, “Nuriel!  You’re going to want to see this!”</p>
<p>As the headline banner scrolled ‘Search continues for son of U.S. ambassador missing from youth wellness camp’, Warlock felt his heart start hammering.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>The woman was dancing, light swaying movements as she worked among the plants in the garden.  Her black tank-top stood starkly against her white skin and her red hair was bound up and tied with a dark red kerchief the colour of old blood.  Her black khakis hung loose about her hips and when she squatted down, gave her a bit of a plumber’s crack.  She straightened up, hitching her trousers back up, admiring the perfect carrots she’d pulled from the earth.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She turned as a man approached her, shadows dappling him as he entered the shade of the tree that sheltered the garden.  He reached up to pluck an apple from the tree and bit into it with a wink.  The woman smiled with delight, her golden eyes crinkling at the corners.</i>
</p>
<p>Warlock woke to a damp pillow and an aching heart.  The dream had left him thinking about Brother Francis, for some reason.  He reached for his notebook to write down the details before they faded.</p>
<p>Two things stood out to him.  The man bore a strong resemblance to the man in the vision with the snake on the couch.  He was pretty sure now that the man was the same man he’d dreamed about before.</p>
<p>He’d dreamed about the woman before, too.  In his notes, he called her ‘the snake woman’ after a dream  where she was dancing almost bonelessly to a Middle Eastern tune.  Sometimes she appeared in her gardens, sometimes in her kitchen.  She was too old and skinny and mannish to be beautiful, with small breasts, no arse to speak of, and hips that barely even dented her waist, and she reminded him achingly of another middle-aged, skinny, red-haired woman who wouldn’t be caught dead belly dancing in a garden in khakis. </p>
<p>But he’d never seen her eyes before, in his dreams. Her eyes had been gold, as gold as harvest moons.  He flipped back to the previous night’s dream, about the bizarre winged creature with red hair and harvest moon eyes.  The big snake in the vision on the couch had had harvest moon eyes, too.</p>
<p><i>What are you trying to tell me?</i> he asked himself.  There was no answer.</p>
<p>Not that his dreams and visions weren’t useful sometimes.  They were.  He wouldn’t be <b>here</b>, if they weren’t.</p>
<p>He got up and swung his feet down onto the floor.  He’d stayed up with Jacob and Avery well past midnight.  They’d finally gone to bed around one o’clock and been allowed to sleep in and go to school late.  Warlock pulled on his own shirt, trousers, and hoody, then he raked his fingers through his hair and put on his sunglasses.</p>
<p>And Saw.</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“You had a nanny?” Jacob asked.  He was showing Warlock around the farm, showing him the sheds, the barn, the chicken coop, gardens, field, and forest.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  Daddy wasn’t around much so Mummy was left by herself a lot.”  Apart from the cook, the maids, the driver, the other servants… but none of them could protect him from Mummy’s drink binges.  “So they hired a nanny to help out.”  Take over… </p>
<p>“You said you miss her,” Jacob said carefully, “What was she like?”</p>
<p>Warlock barked a laugh, “She was… She was something else.  She dressed like goth Mary Poppins.”</p>
<p>Jacob grinned, “Cool!”</p>
<p>“Yeah!  The other servants made fun of her and called her ‘Scary Poppins’ behind her back.  I didn’t like that.  I mean, she was weird but,” Warlock scratched the back of his ear.  <i>’Go to sleep and dream of pain, gloom and darkness, blood and brains’</i> “…Really weird.”</p>
<p>Jacob watched him, “Bad memories kind of weird?”</p>
<p>“No,” Warlock lowered his arm with a sigh, “She was always on about destroying the earth and grinding my enemies beneath my heel and stuff like that.”  Jacob <b>stared</b> at him.  “No no, see, that was, that was just <b>Nanny</b>, that’s just how she was.”</p>
<p>Jacob looked doubtful, “Yeah that’s, that’s weird alright.”</p>
<p>“Getting the wrong ideas here,” Warlock said, “See, yeah Nanny Ash was weird but the thing is, she was, like, she cared about me, you know?   She told me lots of weird stuff like ‘first impressions are usually wrong’ and ‘people are acting roles’ and I found out it was all true.  She never talked down to me or treated me like I was stupid or annoying and she never-”  He broke off and swallowed.  Then he glanced at Jacob, made a decision, and pressed on, “She never pretended my parents weren’t shit.  And she helped me cope with it when I realised it myself.”</p>
<p>“I wish I’d had someone like that,” Jacob breathed, “All I could do was run.  I went through a few foster homes before being placed with Muriel and Nuriel.  They adopted me last year.”</p>
<p>Warlock thought about that.  “Do you ever… I dunno… miss them?”</p>
<p>Jacob was silent for so long, Warlock wondered if he’d said something wrong.  “I miss who I thought they were,” Jacob said finally.</p>
<p>Warlock stopped in his tracks.  “…Wow,” he breathed, fighting the pressure of tears, “That’s… that’s a mood.  Yeah.  Yeah.  That’s it right there.”</p>
<p>Jacob cocked an eyebrow at him, “You need a moment?”</p>
<p>Warlock drew a shuddering breath.  “I’m okay,” he said after a moment, “I’m… I’m here.  …What does that mean, anyways, ‘Where’s my mind?’  What’s that about, anyways?”</p>
<p>“They’re grounding questions,” said Jacob, “We… we all can get sort of ‘stuck’ remembering things.  The questions help us recognise when we’re stuck and get out of them again.  It gets easier with practice.  Avery’s gotten pretty good at it and ze’s really good at spotting when someone else is stuck.  Ze’s going for zir Mindfulness-Based Stress Reduction teacher certificate so ze can offer it at school.”</p>
<p>“That sounds like something I could use,” Warlock sighed.</p>
<p>“You can help zir practice if you want.  Ze knows the whole program.”</p>
<p>Warlock scraped his hand through his hair and nodded, “Yeah.  Maybe I will.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>There was a pot of soup and a kettle sitting on the woodstove when they returned.  Bright classical music was playing on the radio.  Nuriel, at the kitchen table with a tablet, looked up and smiled at them.  Jacob kicked off his shoes and went to pick up a bowl and help himself.  Warlock </p>
<p>Stood in the doorway, feeling a complicated mixture of feelings he didn’t know how to express and couldn’t put a name to.  His eyes stung with tears and he blinked rapidly to force them back.  It felt like… it felt like… </p>
<p>
  <i>the gardener’s cottage, snug and inviting, to be handed a mug of tea by the kindly old gardener who smelled of earth and the patchouli and musk cologne he favoured.  Brother Francis was exactly the opposite of Daddy and his friends.  After he left, the gardener’s cottage felt empty and cold but while he lived there, it felt a little like this…</i>
</p>
<p>But not like <b>this.</b>  <b>This</b> felt like…</p>
<p>
  <i>Home.</i>
</p>
<p>And it was a feeling he was quite unfamiliar with. </p>
<p>“Warlock?  Where’s your mind?”</p>
<p>“Here…  Definitely here…”  <i>Somewhere it had always wanted to be.  Somewhere it didn’t think existed.  Somewhere that existed for other people but not for him.  Somewhere he’d only read about.</i>  “I’m okay,” Warlock said.  He wiped away the couple of tears that had managed to fall, “I’m… I’m okay.”</p>
<p>Nuriel watched him.  “Are you hungry?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  I think I am.”</p>
<p>“There’s always soup on the hob or on the woodstove,” Nuriel said, “We have a lot of growing mouths to feed so help yourself whenever you want some.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” said Warlock and accepted a bowl.  He ate in silence for several minutes then he looked out the window towards the highway that ran across the front of the property, feeling anxiety twist in his gut.  “How old is this place?”</p>
<p>“Two hundred years,” Nuriel said.</p>
<p>“And how long have you lived here?”</p>
<p>They grinned, “A long time.”  Warlock nodded, looking thoughtful.  “How about you, what grade were you going into?”</p>
<p>“I was about to start my junior year.”</p>
<p>Nuriel looked blank, “I have no idea what that means.”</p>
<p>“Oh, um, well, the high school years are Freshman, Sophomore, Junior, and Senior.”</p>
<p>“Oh, okay, so like Grade 11, then?  Grade 12 is final year here, now that they’ve struck down Grade 13.”</p>
<p>“Yeah I guess so.”</p>
<p>“You need to keep up your education,” said Nuriel, “So we’re thinking about enrolling you in online high school while you’re with us.”</p>
<p>Warlock felt immensely relieved and he nodded, “Yeah.  Yeah, okay.  I’m down with that.”</p>
<p>“Great! We’ll get you signed up next week.  This week is refuge time,” they smiled.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Warlock said earnestly.  He felt drained.  “I think I may go lie down for a while?  I don’t know why I’m so tired.”</p>
<p>“Adrenalin takes it out of you,” Nuriel said kindly, “You’re still recovering from what happened.  Take all the time and rest you need, you don’t have to push yourself.”</p>
<p>Warlock swallowed.  <i>”What are you, a pussy?  Man up!   You’re a big boy now, you don’t have time to be a crybaby!”</i></p>
<p>
  <i>”Caring for all God’s creations means caring for yourself too, you know.”</i>
</p>
<p>“Warlock?”</p>
<p>Warlock took a deep breath, inhaling the unfamiliar smells of the old farmhouse.  He let it out and took another one.  “My dad,” he said finally, “And… our old gardener.  Brother Francis was… exactly the opposite of Daddy.  But he didn’t seem to be any less of a man…”  He trailed off, staring into memory.  After a moment he shook himself and continued, “Daddy was pretty strict about how a man should be but Brother Francis… he wasn’t like that <i>at all</i>, but he was…”  He ate another spoonful of soup, thoughtful. </p>
<p>Nuriel watched him.  “What was he like?”</p>
<p>“Soft,” Warlock decided, after a few minutes, “Kind.  Daddy was really firm that men had to be strong and hard and not show any weakness or fear or anything like that.  Or cry.  God, once there was this big storm and it flooded a whole town and the men on the telly were crying and Daddy was so… fuck, he was so <b>brutal</b> about it, just <b>vicious.</b>  I was like, They literally had their homes flooded out, they lost all their stuff, like I think that’s a good reason to cry but Daddy was just… fuck he came down on me like a tonne of bricks.”  He pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead.   He shook his head and drew a steadying breath, “Brother Francis took three days off to go help out.”</p>
<p>“Sounds like a better role model,” said Nuriel.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  He was really kind and patient with me.  He always had time for me and answered all my questions.  Or helped me find my own answers.  He was really good at that.  He was… he was everything that Daddy thought was weak yet somehow, he didn’t seem weak at all.  I always thought he seemed really, really strong.”</p>
<p>“He sounds like the kind of man I want to be,” Jacob observed. </p>
<p>“Yeah, maybe,” Warlock sighed, “I sure don’t want to be like Daddy.”</p>
<p>“I want to be like Mr. Fell!” Jacob declared, “Kind and compassionate and empathetic and know all the things and read all the books!”   Nuriel grinned at him.</p>
<p>“Who’s Mr. Fell?” Warlock asked.</p>
<p>Nuriel smiled, “Our first teacher.  Muriel and I had him back when we were very young.”  Since Nuriel didn’t look any older than about thirty-five, Warlock assumed they must mean first grade or maybe kindergarten. </p>
<p>He finished his soup and pushed the bowl away.  He felt even more drained than he had before.  “I’m gonna get some kip now, if that’s okay?”</p>
<p>“Go ahead,” Nuriel said kindly, “Do you want us to wake you when supper’s ready?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Yeah, please,” Warlock said, “Thank you.”  He hesitated for a moment, then turned to go find the door to the upstairs.   He paused in the stairwell to breathe in the strange, musty smell of the old house - not mildew and somehow not unpleasant.  Then he carried on up the stairs, through the large room with the small stove and the lantern, and into the bedroom he was using.  The window faced west but he could see enough of the highway that crossed the front of the property.  He put on his sunglasses and shuddered.   He thought of Brother Francis, then got down on his knees and began to pray.</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“Did you have any trouble getting Warlock enrolled?”</p>
<p>“None,” Nuriel said with a peculiar grin.</p>
<p>Muriel smiled and chuckled, apparently finding meaning in it.  Warlock listened with half an ear, curled up in an armchair in the sitting room, not really watching the news on the telly.  He was wrapped up snug in a blanket, full from supper, and drifting in a relatively peaceful state.  Then the news headline changed and he blinked.</p>
<p>“Ah, finally,” Muriel murmured.  She called over her shoulder, “Nuriel!  You’re going to want to see this!”</p>
<p>As the headline banner scrolled ‘Search continues for son of U.S. ambassador missing from youth wellness camp’, Warlock felt his heart start hammering and he struggled to sit up.  Muriel came over to rest her hand on the back of Warlock’s chair as Tad Dowling’s face filled the screen, alternately lamenting and threatening.  “You’re safe here,” she said gently, “You left this for a reason.  We’re not sending you back to him if you don’t want to go.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked up, his face pale, “Please don’t.”</p>
<p>“We won’t,” Nuriel promised, “Though you might have mentioned there might also be FBI agents looking for you.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Warlock whispered, “I didn’t think about that at all.”  He looked back at the telly, where Tad was pleading for the return of his beloved only son, the apple of his eye, the joy of his heart… Warlock sneered, “I’m the thorn in his side and the biggest disappointment ever, according to him.”</p>
<p>“We won’t send you back if you don’t want to go,” Nuriel said again, “And if you don’t want to be found, they won’t find you.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked up, “You can’t know that.”</p>
<p>Nuriel winked, “Wanna bet?”</p>
<p>Warlock looked away.  Then he looked back.  <span class="small">”Please don’t drive Jacob and Avery to school tomorrow,”</span> he whispered. </p>
<p>“Eh?”</p>
<p>“<b>Please</b>, please don’t drive them to school tomorrow morning,” he pleaded, “Something’s going to happen.”</p>
<p>Nuriel stared at him, then glanced up at Muriel, then looked back.  “Alright,” they said finally, “…What if Muriel takes them instead?”</p>
<p>Warlock felt panic leap into his throat.  “No!  No!” he yelped, “<b>Please</b>, no!  Don’t drive tomorrow morning!  Please!”</p>
<p>Nuriel glanced up at Muriel and nodded, “Alright, then.  Guess they can show you how the online class system works, then.”</p>
<p>Relief overwhelmed Warlock and he felt tears sting his eyes as he nodded, “Yeah.  Yeah.  Thank you.  I know it sounds…”  He broke off and swallowed, “…Thank you.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“HOLY SHIT <b>MOM</b> come quick!”</p>
<p>“Jacob, call 911!  Avery, let’s go!”</p>
<p>Warlock shocked awake and jerked upright to look out the bedroom window.  Then he threw himself out the door and down the stairs and ran out to the kitchen to stare out the bootroom door.  Nuriel stood beside him, speaking into their phone, staring at the large semi-trailer that had plowed off the highway across the mouth of the lane, right across the spot where they would have been waiting in the car for the truck to pass.  “Looks like the truck lost its steering,” they said into the phone, “It’s gone right into the ditch.  The whole front end is crushed and the trailer looks damaged.  Yeah, I think an ambulance… Yeah my sister just signalled me, the driver is injured, so yes, ambulance.  Yes, I’ll hold the line.”</p>
<p>“Holy shit,” Jacob breathed.  He looked up at Nuriel, “Good thing you let us stay home today!”  He looked suddenly at Warlock, “Hey are you okay?”</p>
<p>Warlock was not okay.  Warlock was shivering, tears rolling down his face as he whispered frantically, <span class="small">”Thank you.  Thank you for making them believe me.  Somebody finally believed me.  Thank you.  They finally believed me.”</span></p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0004"><h2>4. The Vision of the Wandering Angels</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warlock shuddered.  It was the monster from his dreams — black wings, black clothes, auburn hair.  Warlock dipped his head to look over his glasses and saw now a- man? - in a black suit with auburn hair and dark sunglasses, facing mostly away from him as he stepped forward to hug the man from the vision on the couch and kiss him with warm affection.  </p>
<p>The monster turned, showing widening eyes as gold as harvest moons, mouth twitching up with delighted surprise.  “Hellspawn!”  Warlock stared.  “I see you’ve still got my sunglasses!”  Warlock continued to stare.  The monster grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges with warm affection, “You gonna say something to your old Nanny?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Good morning, this is A. Z. Fell and Company Antiquarian Books, how may I help you?”</p>
<p>“Hi Professor Honeycakes!”</p>
<p>“Muriel, my dear, what a delight!  What can I do for you?”</p>
<p>“We need information, Professor.  We’ve taken in another runaway and we think he might be a Seer.  He’s also the child of someone pretty prominent, so we need to know more about what we’re in for with Warlock.”</p>
<p>“Of course, my dear, just let me open… hang on,” there was a pause, “Did you say <i>Warlock</i>?”</p>
<p>“Yes?  Warlock, family name Dowling.”</p>
<p>There was another long pause.  “I think we need to talk about this in person.  Crowley’s in Siberia helping Ditr right now but he’ll want to be in on this.  Just let me find my mobile, I’ll be right over.  Do <b>not</b> let that child leave!”</p>
<p>“Ready when you are, Professor!”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>Warlock woke slowly.  He wasn’t sure how it was possible for him to still feel so tired after sleeping so much.  Every free moment he had since arriving here, he seemed to spend sleeping.  And dreaming.   He’d dreamed about the man on the couch again and it felt like he knew him. </p>
<p>Jasmine and North were coming home from school for the weekend, today.  He hoped to review his American Sign Language lesson before they arrived, so he could at least introduce himself.  He got up, got dressed, and put on his sunglasses, and went downstairs.   He opened the stairwell door and stared.  Because the man from the vision on the couch was <b>there</b>.</p>
<p>But he’d never looked like <i>that</i> before!   Warlock glanced over the tops of his glasses then back through the lenses.  What he Saw didn’t change but this time he Saw something else as well.</p>
<p>Brother Francis.</p>
<p>He stared over the tops of his glasses again.  The man didn’t look much like Brother Francis (he was much better looking, for one) yet somehow he had the same caring, kindly <i>radiance</i>, for lack of a better word.   And he had the same improbably blue eyes. </p>
<p>He was talking with Muriel and Nuriel and they were standing in a circle around someone’s cell phone.  Warlock looked through his lenses again, just as the phone rang and Muriel reached down to tap it then stepped hastily away and a monster emerged from the phone.  </p>
<p>Warlock shuddered.  It was the monster from his dreams — black wings, black clothes, auburn hair.  Warlock dipped his head to look over his glasses and saw now a- man? - in a black suit with auburn hair and dark sunglasses, facing mostly away from him as he stepped forward to hug the man from the vision on the couch and kiss him with warm affection.  Then Muriel and Nuriel stepped forward in turn to embrace him and kiss his cheeks.  Warlock looked through his lenses again and this time briefly saw- “Nanny?!” </p>
<p>The monster turned, showing widening eyes as gold as harvest moons, mouth twitching up with delighted surprise.  “Hellspawn!”  Warlock stared.  “I see you’ve still got my sunglasses!”  Warlock continued to stare.  The monster grinned, eyes crinkling at the edges with warm affection, “You know, I can’t decide whether that was English or Japanese.”  Warlock’s staring continued unabated.  “You gonna say something to your old Nanny?”</p>
<p>“Hhhhh-how did you come out of the phone?”</p>
<p>“That’s a good start.”</p>
<p>Muriel gaped, “Wait,  <b>Crowley</b> was your <i>nanny?</i>”</p>
<p>Crowley grinned, “And Aziraphale was his gardener.”</p>
<p>Warlock stared at the man from the vision on the couch who smiled and waved a hand.  For just an instant he was “Brother Francis?”</p>
<p>“Used to be, yes,” the man from the vision on the couch smiled and it was Brother Francis’s warm smile (with better teeth.)  “Come sit down, my dear boy.”  Warlock nodded silently.  They went to the sitting room.  Aziraphale and Crowley sat on the couch together, Muriel and Nuriel curled up on their loveseat together, and Warlock claimed one of the armchairs.  Muriel poured tea from the tray sitting on the sideboard.  “I’m Aziraphale and this is Crowley and yes, you knew her as your Nanny.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked at the red-haired… woman, yes, now definitely a woman.  Her hair was loose and free and she was no longer wearing severe tweed but she was definitely Nanny - same sharp features, same barely-there body, same deep voice although she appeared to have lost her Scottish accent.  Warlock’s own accent had gotten a bit watered down over the years in the United States so that wasn’t a surprise.  “I’ve missed you,” he whispered.</p>
<p>The restrained affectionate smile was Nanny’s too,  “Missed you too, Hellspawn.”</p>
<p>Warlock’s breath came in sharp gasps and he tried desperately to suppress the tears that stung his eyes.  Then Nanny opened her arms and reached out and he launched himself out of his chair to collapse onto the couch beside her.  Brother Francis wrapped them both in his strong arms and the familiar smells of patchouli and musk and coffee and vanilla reached Warlock and he broke into wild sobbing.</p>
<p>When he’d finally cried himself out, he reached for the tissue box and his lukewarm tea.  Nanny - Crowley - stroked her fingers through his hair and Br - Aziraphale left his arm around Warlock’s waist, his sturdy body strong and supportive.  Warlock drained half his tea and Muriel poured him some more, fresh from the pot.  “Thank you,” he mumbled, “I guess you have questions, starting with ‘how did I get here?’”</p>
<p>“Mmm, nope,” Crowley said, “That’s down the list.  I’d rather start with, What are you seeing when you look at us through my glasses?”</p>
<p>Warlock stiffened, “Huh?”</p>
<p>Crowley picked up Warlock’s sunglasses and held them out to him, “Tell me.”</p>
<p>Warlock chewed his lip and swallowed a few times.  “You have wings,” he blurted finally, “All of you.”  He looked at Nuriel, Muriel, and Aziraphale in turn, “Yours are golden brown…  Yours are sort of pale amber…  Yours are sort of beige.”  He turned back to Crowley, “And yours are black, and your eyes…” Crowley’s eyebrows flexed above her sunglasses.   Warlock put his own on and looked at her again.  He swallowed.  “Your eyes are gold and your pupils look like a cat’s.”</p>
<p>“Or a snake’s,” Crowley said and took off her sunglasses.  </p>
<p>Warlock took off his own and gasped.  “That’s… why you always wear the sunglasses.”  Crowley winked.  “Wh-why do you have snake eyes and wings?”</p>
<p>Crowley leaned back with a grin and waved her hand at the others in the room, “You tell me.  What kind of creature has wings like that?”</p>
<p><span class="small">”Angels,”</span> Warlock whispered, “Y-you’re all… angels?  Real angels?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “And Crowley is a Fallen angel, otherwise known as a demon.” </p>
<p>Warlock stared at Crowley and Crowley <b>grinned.</b>  “….Wait, are you seriously telling me that my Nanny was a <b>demon</b> and my gardener was an <b>angel</b>?”</p>
<p>“Yes,” they chorused.</p>
<p>“But… Why?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale took a deep breath and laid his hand gently on Warlock’s arm.  “You’re the Antichrist,” he said softly, “Or… we thought you were.  It turns out there was another couple giving birth at the same convent at the same time as your parents, at the same time as Crowley was bringing the real Antichrist, who was to be swapped out with the Dowlings’ real baby.”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head slowly, “Daddy wasn’t even there, he just called in on Skype.  Mummy gave birth to me alone.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “So when Crowley saw the lone expectant father, he quite naturally assumed that that was the American ambassador he’d been told to expect.  Moreover, he didn’t actually do the swap himself, the nuns saw to that.  And thus the real Antichrist went to the wrong family, and you went to the family chosen for the Antichrist.”</p>
<p>Warlock frowned, “…Think I might need a scorecard for this.”  He looked at Crowley, “So, you… went to my family to be nanny for the Antichrist?”  Crowley nodded. </p>
<p>“And I went to thwart him!” Aziraphale grinned.</p>
<p>Warlock sighed heavily and passed his hands down his face, “Oh boy does <b>that</b> explain a lot.”</p>
<p>“Yyyyyup,” Crowley drawled, popping the P, “We were aiming to cancel each other out and you grow up an ordinary boy.  We weren’t exactly fond of the whole ‘end of the world’ idea.  Too much fun up here.”  She sighed and raked a hand through her auburn curls.  “And then we found out we had the wrong child.”</p>
<p>Warlock sagged.  “That’s the literal story of my life,” he sighed, feeling defeated.</p>
<p>“We had the wrong <b>Antichrist</b>,” Crowley clarified, “And <b>then</b> we found out the next prophet had been born on the same night.  And when I gave him my sunglasses, I apparently activated his Sight.”  </p>
<p>Warlock’s head snapped up to stare at her.  “…Prophet?”</p>
<p>“The last great prophet was Agnes Nutter,” Aziraphale said, “No prophet was ever as accurate as she was - not Elijah, not Enoch, certainly not Nostradamus.  Not until now.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked at his hands as he tried to digest all of this.  “That’s how I got <i>here</i>,” he said finally, “I Saw what to do - when to leave, what vehicle to watch out for, what the driver looked like.”</p>
<p>“I found him on the highway in the middle of the night in the rain,” Nuriel supplied, “He’d escaped from an illegal conversion therapy camp, operating as a ‘youth wellness camp’ in a state where conversion therapy is banned.”</p>
<p>A soft <i>fwump</i> startled Warlock; Aziraphale’s teaspoon had inexplicably burst into flames.  “Sorry,” Aziraphale said sheepishly, “Get a bit… upset about those.”</p>
<p>“We’re shutting that shit down,” Nuriel said firmly. </p>
<p>Crowley smirked over at Aziraphale, “The founders of those places usually have something to hide.  I’m quite sure Aziraphale can find out what it is.”  </p>
<p>Aziraphale’s answering grin was anything but angelic, “We’ve done it before, let’s do it again.”</p>
<p>“I’m relieved to hear that you Saw going out to the highway,” Muriel said, “We’ve focused on the positive aspects of that but it’s also true that you could have opened yourself to greater danger.  But knowing that you Saw that and knew to look for Nuriel makes me feel better about it.”</p>
<p>“Thanks for the warning this morning, too, by the way,” Nuriel said, “The driver’s going to be okay.”</p>
<p><span class="small">”You believed me,”</span> Warlock whispered.  Suddenly his eyes filled with tears he couldn’t suppress.  “You believed me.  No one ever believes me.  No one believes me and then things happen and I can’t stop them.  I can’t stop them from happening.”  He broke and started sobbing, “I tried, I really tried!  I tried to help but no one would believe me!”</p>
<p>Muriel held up her fingers and started to move them in a horizontal figure-8 motion.  “Follow my fingers with your eyes, just your eyes,” she said gently, “Go with that.  You tried to help.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, trying to obey the instruction to follow her fingers, “I really did.  I tried to stop it from happening but nobody would listen to me.”</p>
<p>“Go with that,” Muriel said, “Keep following my fingers.”</p>
<p>Little by little, the story unfolded.  With many pauses to breathe and re-orient himself in the present, following the patterns Muriel drew in the air with her fingers, details emerged of what Warlock had experienced at the so-called “wellness camp.”  Aziraphale’s teaspoon was practically incandescent.  Crowley was clenching her teeth hard enough to grind.  “I did everything I could,” Warlock trailed off finally. </p>
<p>“Go with that,” Muriel said softly, “You did everything you could.  Do you want to stop there for now?”  Warlock nodded.  “You did everything you could..”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again and wiped his eyes.  <span class="small">”Could I have a hug, please?”</span></p>
<p>“You sure can, honey,” Muriel said and reached out to enfold him in her arms.  Warlock hugged her until he felt a little calmer, then, without quite realizing he was going to do it, he fell into Aziraphale’s arms and started to cry again. </p>
<p>“Let it out, dear boy,” Aziraphale whispered, “You’re safe now.”</p>
<p>“And we <i>will</i> take care of the people who did this,” Crowley hissed.</p>
<p>“You did everything you should have done, dear boy,” Aziraphale crooned, “It isn’t your responsibility that the people in authority refused to act.  You did exactly what you were supposed to do.  You’ve made us very proud of you.”</p>
<p>Warlock cried himself out again and sat up to wipe his face.  He reached for his tea, which was surprisingly still hot.</p>
<p>“You just got up, haven’t you?  Have you eaten?” Muriel asked gently.  He shook his head.  Nuriel got up and went to the kitchen.  “That’s a lot to take on an empty stomach.  Nuriel is getting you something.  We’ll work on this some more, later, okay?”  Warlock nodded.  “For now, have something to eat and take some time to reconnect with your Nanny, alright?”  He nodded again.  Muriel smiled and looked at Crowley, “He’s had just lovely things to say about his Nanny.”</p>
<p>“So we were a little surprised that it was you,” Nuriel quipped, coming back into the room and handing Warlock a bowl.  Crowley turned to snarl at them and Aziraphale snorted a laugh.  Even Warlock started to smile a little.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0005"><h2>5. The Vision of the Serpent</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Are you saying… that… my <i>nanny</i>…”</p>
<p>“Is the Serpent of Eden, yes,” Aziraphale said simply.  He smiled as he stroked a fingertip along the snake’s jaw.  “The original tempter and the bringer of the knowledge of good and evil to humanity.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p><i>”Don’t ask about her name.  Don’t <b>ever</b> ask anything about the time before she Fell.  Not unless she volunteers something first - and then keep it <b>only</b> to what she volunteers.”</i>  Nuriel’s whispered words still rang in Warlock’s ears as he walked between his nanny and his gardener.  <i>”You can ask just about anything about <b>after</b> she Fell.  She might choose not to answer, but you won’t be opening old wounds.”</i></p>
<p>“Penny for your thoughts?” came Nan- <i>Crowley’s</i> gentle voice, “Still with us?”</p>
<p>They were walking around the field towards the small orchard, in a silence that was much more comfortable than Warlock had thought it might be.  He nodded and sighed, “Yeah.  I’m just… I used to think about running away back to England and finding you again but…”</p>
<p>“But?”</p>
<p>He sighed, “But… I don’t See anything until, like, spring I guess?  What I See, there’s blossoms on the trees.  I guess… I feel like I’m supposed to stay here for a bit, if they’ll let me.”</p>
<p>Crowley gazed at him for a moment, biting her lower lip.  “Glad we agree,” she said finally.</p>
<p>“You ended up in the very best hands possible,” Aziraphale said, “Muriel and Nuriel have been doing this for over two hundred years, taking in children, giving them love and support and everything they need to heal.”</p>
<p>“They’re both doctors of psychiatry and psychology,” Crowley agreed, “They’re trained in mental health first aid and trauma intervention.  They’ve been doing that with you since the moment Nuriel picked you up.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “They linked you with Jacob immediately.  His story is very similar to yours - running away from a home hostile to his truth.  They prepared him for you so that you could feel understood and <b>know</b> that you were safe.”</p>
<p>“They’ve studied with Pahaliah and Ditr, they know all the methods and all the research and if a child needs medication, they can prescribe.  There’s nobody on our team better qualified to do this.  And nobody we’d trust more.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded and sighed again, “I can’t go home.”</p>
<p>“No one’s going to make you, hellspawn.  We’ll see to that.”</p>
<p>Warlock nearly sagged with relief.  “So… I’ll stay here for a while?  If they’ll let me?”</p>
<p>“They will,” said Crowley, “And then you can come over on holiday break and visit our cottage, how does that sound?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded with more confidence this time, “Okay.”</p>
<p>“You know what sounds lovely to me,” said Aziraphale, “One of those apples.”  He glanced up into a nearby tree and gave Crowley a look that Warlock immediately thought of as ‘puppy eyes.’  “Would you be so kind as to get that one for me, my dear?”  He tipped his head and gave her a charming smile. </p>
<p>The apple was well within Aziraphale’s reach and Crowley was further away.  Warlock expected her to tell him to get his own apple.  Instead, she gave him an indulgent smile and said, “Of course, Angel.”</p>
<p>And then she changed into a snake!  Warlock gaped as the large black snake reared up against the tree trunk and started to climb.  She slid along the branch, showing her crimson belly, then flicked her tongue over the apple in question.  “Nope, this one’s bad, Angel.  Hang on, this one smells better.”  She lifted up to a higher branch and caused a different apple to fall.  Aziraphale caught it neatly and bit into it, giving her a rakish wink.  He passed it to his other hand, then he reached up to let the snake climb down his arm to coil around his neck and shoulders.  Her eyes were as large and gold as harvest moons.</p>
<p>“Sister black snake,” Warlock whispered.</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled, “It’s an old joke between us.  It’s my way of telling her I still don’t think what she did was wrong.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked puzzled, “What did she do?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale grinned, “Snakes, apples?  Your father was a little too fond of that story.”</p>
<p>Warlock blinked, “You mean the…the garden of Eden?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “The very same.”</p>
<p>“Are you saying… that… my <i>nanny</i>…”</p>
<p>“Is the Serpent of Eden, yes,” Aziraphale said simply.  He smiled as he stroked a fingertip along the snake’s jaw.  “The original tempter and the bringer of the knowledge of good and evil to humanity.”</p>
<p>Warlock paused, “Okay, I haven’t heard it like that before.”</p>
<p>“No, well, it all went a bit awry.  The tree was meant to be a gift from the Angel of Illumination.  Apparently the humans were meant to have the knowledge of good and evil and then, armed with that knowledge, be sent out into the world to be its stewards.  But the message got skewed and instead I was told to evict them, defenceless.”</p>
<p>“You… evict them?  Adam and Eve?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes.  I guarded the eastern gate of Eden,” Aziraphale nodded.   He smiled fondly at the snake, “That’s how we met.  Crowley showed up beside me on the wall, poor dear was bewildered as to why the humans had been thrown out.  He didn’t intend that much harm, he was just told to go up and make some trouble and he let the humans show him what they were already curious about.  Turns out, he was sent up as a distraction.”</p>
<p>Warlock blinked, “He was?”</p>
<p>“Mm-hmm.  I did say the message was skewed.  That was quite deliberate.  It worked, unfortunately, and humanity has suffered from the consequences ever since.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Warlock whispered, eyes wide.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s smile turned crafty. “’Ought we not, after all, to thank this serpent?  He was the first schoolmaster, the first advocate of learning, the first enemy of ignorance, the first to whisper in human ears the sacred word Liberty, the creator of ambition, the author of modesty, of inquiry, of doubt, of investigation, of progress and of civilisation,’” he recited.</p>
<p>The snake had turned its head and was giving him a Look, which was quite an accomplishment for a being with no eyelids, eyebrows, or any facial muscles to speak of.  “Laying it on a little thick there, Angel.”</p>
<p>“Not me, that was Robert Green Ingersoll,” Aziraphale said smugly.</p>
<p>Crowley huffed, “Just don’t let anybody Downstairs hear any of that.”  She slid down Aziraphale to the ground and it seemed to Warlock that she was getting longer and larger as she went.   Then she reared up, raising a third of herself off the ground, until her eyes were level with Warlock’s. </p>
<p>“Try not to scare him too badly, my dear,” Aziraphale admonished, smiling.</p>
<p>“That’s the point, Angel,” Crowley said, swaying slightly as she hovered, “He’s not scared at all.”</p>
<p>“Well… no,” Warlock said, “I know it’s you.”</p>
<p>“Good,” she said and shifted back to human shape.  She - no, no, definitely <i>he</i> now, the adam’s apple and beard shadow were very apparent and the chest…. Was virtually indistinguishable from the breasts, to be honest, and the hips had barely changed at all.  Warlock stared and Crowley grinned.</p>
<p>There was a lesson here, Warlock realized.  Probably a lot of them, remembering how Nanny lived her lessons.  They both did - it was one of the things Warlock had come to appreciate about them.  <i>”That’s the point - he’s not scared.”</i>  She had started out as a woman, changed her form to a snake, and now to a man - was that the point?  Yet somehow Warlock thought it went deeper than that. </p>
<p>She looked different, even when she was a woman, he realized.  Softer.  Freer.  Nanny had always had an air of tense frustration about her, like she was never entirely comfortable.  <i>Because she wasn’t,</i> he realized.  He wasn’t sure <b>what</b> the difference was, but he was sure that identifying that was where the lesson lay. </p>
<p>And it must have shown on his face because now Nanny was smiling. </p>
<p>“Can I… ask about…” Warlock tapped his left cheek before his ear, “Is that new?  I don’t remember you having that one, I only remember the snake.  I don’t mean to pry,” he added hastily, “Just… you all have one so…”</p>
<p>Nann- Crowley nodded.  “Clade stigmata,” he said, “It just means we all work for the Peacock Angel, the Angel of Illumination.”</p>
<p>A memory pinged at Warlock’s mind.  “A… peacock?”</p>
<p>Crowley tipped his head at him, “…Yeah.  Seen anything about that?”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head slowly, “Just a… really weird one about a peacock and a snake, sitting in an apple tree.  The snake looked kind of like you.”</p>
<p>Crowley threw back his head and laughed, “Probably is me.  Sounds like one of our annual check-ins.  Hm.”</p>
<p>“Are you recording these visions anywhere, dear boy?” Aziraphale asked. </p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “In my notebook, yes.  Sometimes I write them down, sometimes I have to draw them because I don’t know how to describe them.”</p>
<p>“May I see your notebook some time?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again, “Yeah, okay, it’s in… the room where I’m staying.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “We’ll negotiate with Muriel and Nuriel for arrangements for you and work out a treatment plan for you, if that’s what you would like.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, I think.. I think I need… I keep… I keep seeing… I keep remembering…”</p>
<p>“Stay with us,” Crowley said gently, lightly touching his arm.   Warlock nodded and his hand came up to cover Crowley’s and he took a shaky breath.   Crowley gathered him against his chest and held him.  Then Aziraphale wrapped them both in his arms and shared a significant look with Crowley. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“…And deep breath,” Muriel inhaled and exhaled slowly, “And what are you noticing now?” </p>
<p>“…. I realized there was a vision coming up… I thought… maybe I could make a difference this time… They’re supposed to be concerned with people, right?  I thought maybe this time I could make a difference….”</p>
<p>“Okay, go with that, you thought you could make a difference.”</p>
<p>Warlock’s eyes tracked the light flicking from side to side as he remembered.  <i>It’s already helping,</i> a distant part of him observed.  The high distressed tension had been replaced by an aching sadness but he felt calmer.   He let the memory play out, watching the light flicker back and forth. </p>
<p>“And deep breath.”  He inhaled obediently.  “And what are you noticing now?”</p>
<p>“I realized that something was wrong and nobody else had noticed.  I guess that’s something to be proud of.”</p>
<p>“Go with that, something to be proud of.”</p>
<p>“They were supposed to notice,” Warlock murmured after a few minutes, “They were supposed to be responsible.”</p>
<p>“Go with that.”</p>
<p>“What’s the point in having these visions if I can’t help people?”</p>
<p>“Go with that.”</p>
<p>He sighed, watching the light, feeling the momentary spike of frustrated energy subside into a dark sadness.  “…Maybe they didn’t want to help.   Maybe they thought….”  The light flickered, keeping his attention on it.  He scraped a hand through his hair with another sigh, “I need to be able to help people myself.”   He watched the light a bit more then, “But I guess that’s not realistic…  I can’t know everything.”</p>
<p>“Deep breath,” Muriel said.  He obeyed.  “What are you noticing now?”</p>
<p>Warlock was silent for a long time.  “Just really sad,” he said finally, “He went there to get help.  It was his third time.  But they didn’t help, they just made it worse.  Maybe they didn’t really want to help.”  He sat silent for a few minutes more, staring at memory.  “I didn’t want their help,” he whispered.</p>
<p>“Go with that.”</p>
<p>“I didn’t want to end up like that,” he whispered, “I think I might have ended up like that if I didn’t have…”  He stared at a different memory and felt something shift within him.  “But I’m not going to end up like that.”</p>
<p> “And how would you rate your feelings now?”</p>
<p>Warlock inhaled and exhaled again.  Inhaling the smell of the old farmhouse, feeling the chair beneath his hands, hearing the shouts of the kids playing outside.  His ankles were crossed under his chair.  His hands were braced beside him.   He took another deep breath and felt a lot of tension release from his shoulders.  “…Five.  Maybe six…  Five feels a little closer… Five and a half, maybe?”</p>
<p>“Do you want to stop there for now?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah… yeah… I think maybe.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  Do you want to do one more with ‘not going to end up like that?’”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded and let his eyes follow the light once more, focusing on that feeling.  He did feel a little bit… lighter?  Lighter would work. </p>
<p>“And what do you need right now?”</p>
<p>“A coke,” Warlock said, “I could really use a coke.”</p>
<p>“In the fridge,” Muriel grinned.  </p>
<p>Warlock got up and patted himself down then went out to the kitchen where Aziraphale and Crowley were in consultation with Nuriel.  He didn’t look at them as he crossed to the fridge to get his coke.  He saw Nanny look up at him, his concerned golden eyes briefly visible above his sunglasses from this angle, but he continued back out of the kitchen and up the stairwell to the room he was currently using.  He rummaged for his notebook and thumped back down the stairs to the kitchen again just as Muriel was returning.   He paused to hug her then thunked down into a chair at the kitchen table and popped open his coke.</p>
<p>Nuriel lifted an eyebrow, “So what do you think?  How do you feel about staying with us for a while?”</p>
<p>“Better,” Warlock nodded, “Yeah.”  He took a swig of his coke and nodded at Muriel, “I’m feeling a bit better now.  Thank you.” </p>
<p>Muriel smiled, “We’ll work together again tomorrow, if you feel like it, does that sound alright?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded readily, “Yeah.  Please.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Nuriel smiled, “Now what do you think about we get you into a routine around the online school and the farm?  We’ll show you how to take care of the chickens and collect eggs and how to garden and grow your own food, how does that sound?”</p>
<p>Warlock the urbanite who grew up with a bevy of servants and had only seen a supermarket because Nanny had foresight, shrugged, “That all sounds like stuff I’ve never done before.  I mean, I used to help Brother Franc- Aziraphale, in the garden a bit but that was mostly just flowers.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale chuckled and leaned across to rest his hand on Warlock’s forearm briefly, “It’ll help keep you grounded, dear boy.  It’ll be good for you to know where your food comes from.  You might even keep it up as a hobby, who knows?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Jacob and Avery showed me their plots and Jacob let me try one of his carrots and Avery let me have some tomatoes and they were really good.  Yeah, I’m cool with that.  It’s different and Brother Francis is good memories.”</p>
<p>“That’s why he suggested it,” Nuriel smiled.</p>
<p>Crowley took a breath and let it out slowly.  “Now’s the hard part,” he sighed, “There’s a manhunt on for you.  Nuriel and I have been researching the laws, here in Canada, in England, and in your home state.  You’re considered old enough to make the decision to leave.  But you’re going to have to tell the police that you’re safe.  And you might have to tell your father.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0006"><h2>6. The Vision of the Damned</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The interview with the police had gone fine.  They had listened to his story and were talking with Nuriel about the wellness camp and promising to coordinate with their state counterparts. </p>
<p>Talking to Daddy was not going fine. </p>
<p>(See author's note for <b>content warnings</b>)</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>
  <b>Content Warning: Detailed description of EMDR therapy</b>
</p>
<p> </p>
<p>This chapter contains  two potentially triggering concepts: The confrontation between Warlock and Tad Dowling, and Warlock participating in a therapy session.  I have skimmed over much of the confrontation with Tad because, well most of us are very familiar with that kind of language and nobody with wounds needs them rubbed with salt (including myself.)    </p>
<p>However, as I've said previously, I intended to focus more on Warlock's healing.  Warlock's therapy session is written in depth and that includes descriptions of his feelings and what he's experiencing.  These may open some readers' wounds, especially if they can relate.  I've made this choice because many people don't realize that there are therapies other than Cognitive Behaviour Therapy and talk therapy, both of which don't always work for everyone, especially neuro-divergent people, who may find success in more body-focused therapies like EMDR and EFT. </p>
<p>Okay I think this note is long enough for everyone who wants to go ahead, to psych themselves up and get themselves emotionally prepared....</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The interview with the police had gone fine.  They had listened to his story and were talking with Nuriel about the wellness camp and promising to coordinate with their state counterparts. </p>
<p>Talking to Daddy was not going fine. </p>
<p>Nuriel had taught him  how to tap on the bases of his fingernails to keep himself grounded.  He was tapping so much, he feared they would be bruised.   He stared into the Skype camera, doing his best to stay calm as Daddy alternately cajoled and raged and Mummy pleaded and cried.  Behind him, behind the one-way glass, the social workers were observing.  As Daddy went into another raging tirade, Warlock tapped on his fingernails and prayed that the social workers would let him stay.  And then another face appeared in the little inset Skype screen, behind Warlock.</p>
<p>It was Nanny Ashtoreth to the life.  Same hat, same tweed suit, same flame red victory waves, black sunglasses that gave her the soulless look that everyone who wasn’t Warlock Dowling found terrifying.  “He’s with me.” </p>
<p> Warlock watched as the fear of God filled his father’s eyes.  “Coraline…!”</p>
<p>“There’s nothing wrong with him that you didn’t break, Tad Dowling,” Nanny growled.  That touched off a vicious argument.  Warlock kept his eyes on Nanny, looking up at her with as much love and gratitude as he could put on his face.  From this angle, he could see her golden eyes, which occasionally flicked to him and once he saw her wink.  That told him she was doing this deliberately, baiting Tad and manipulating him into revealing his true nature, giving him plenty of rope to hang himself.   “There’s a special place in Hell for people like you, Tad Dowling,” Nanny leaned forward and hissed, “I’ll see to it <i>personally.</i>”</p>
<p>The call quit.  Warlock realized he was shaking.  “I think I need to go throw up now,” he whispered.  He pushed the chair back and went to find a bathroom.</p>
<p>“…let go when the Dowlings went back to America, of course.   Warlock was eleven by then so I was expecting it anyways,” Nanny was saying to the social worker as Warlock came back to the interview room.  The social worker nodded, taking notes.  “So I was quite surprised when we got the call from Muriel Desanges.  Nuriel and I go way back, we reconnected about six years ago and have stayed in contact ever since.  To be quite honest, there’s no one I’d trust more with Warlock’s mental health recovery right now.”</p>
<p>“We’re quite familiar with the Desanges,” the social worker smiled, “They do wonderful work with children.”  She took a few more notes then looked up at Warlock, “How are you feeling?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “I’m gonna need another breakfast.”</p>
<p>The social worker smiled, “Okay, I think we have enough of a case to convince the court to agree to placing you under the guardianship of Mrs. Crowley.  Are you good with that?”</p>
<p>Warlock sagged, “Please.  I’ve wanted to go back to Nanny since I left England.”</p>
<p>“Mrs. Crowley said you wanted to stay with the Desanges for a while?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “If I can, yeah.  They’re psych doctors, right?  They’re already working with me and it’s helping.  I mean, I’m sure Nanny can find people back in England who can help me but she said she trusts Muriel and Nuriel the most.”</p>
<p>The social worker nodded and made a few more notes.  “If we can convince the court to place you under Mrs. Crowley’s guardianship then she can decide where you should stay.  But between us, she’s right, we’ve placed a lot of kids with Muriel and Nuriel Desanges and they really are miracle workers.”  Warlock smiled. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”Just saying that making that particular threat while Warlock was listening was perhaps not the best thing you could have done.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”And I’m saying I’m going to follow through with it!  Come on, Angel, we both know that’s where he’s going, he’s in for the Big Red Lever.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”Yes.  And I’m afraid I’m a terrible angel because I’d like to be there to see it.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”Well I’m going to, even if it means doing a favour for Beelzebub.”</span>
</p>
<p>Warlock lay dozing on his bed, straining to hear.  <i>Daddy’s going to Hell,</i> he realised.  He thought about that.  It was one thing to wish it on your parents in a fit of anger.  It was something else to realise that it was actually going to happen.  When Daddy died, he’d be going to Hell.  Warlock wasn’t sure what he felt about that.  Then he remembered the things Daddy had said to him, the nasty fight he’d had with Nanny, and he felt……. But did that justify an eternity of torment?</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”…chosen to raise <b>the Antichrist</b>, Nuriel, of course they aren’t good parents!   They aren’t good <b>people!</b>  They were <b>supposed</b> to raise him to be steeped in every sin there is and to feel neglected and unwanted and entitled enough to embrace <i>Satan</i> as his father and destroy the world!”</span>
</p>
<p>….. Put like that, it probably did, yeah.  Put like that… Put like that… </p>
<p>Warlock rolled over, thinking.  Put like that, he was doubly glad for Nanny and Brother Francis.  Put like that…</p>
<p>He sighed and sat up, scraping his fingernails through his hair.  Thinking like this wasn’t going to get him very far.   Nuriel was right, he needed to think about his own future for now.  He felt better for the nap, at least.  He felt better for the nap.  His feet were on the floor.  His bum was on the bed.  He was safe in the farm house.  Nanny and Aziraphale were downstairs with Nuriel.  Jacob and Muriel were outside working the field.  Avery was outside playing with North and Jasmine.  He’d told Daddy to stay away.  He was in the farm house and he was safe.</p>
<p><i>’What’s your plan for the next five minutes?’</i>  Man it was fast, how quickly Muriel’s voice became part of his inner landscape.  <i>Go downstairs.  Go to the bathroom.  Get some soup.  Hug Nanny and Aziraphale,  Thank Nuriel.</i> he answered himself.   Then he got up.  He went downstairs.  He went to the bathroom.  He went to the kitchen and got some soup.  He hugged Nanny and Aziraphale.  Then he sat down at the table and found himself staring into the middle distance. </p>
<p>Nuriel watched him carefully.  “How are you doing with all of that?”</p>
<p>“Not great,” Warlock admitted, still staring ahead of himself, “Daddy said a lot of things…  I know they’re bullshit but…”</p>
<p>“Do you want to work with that?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yes please.  Nanny and Aziraphale can stay if they want to.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale rested his hand lightly on top of Warlock’s.  “Of course, dear boy,” he said gently.</p>
<p>“Do you want to work towards that?  You know it’s bullshit?” Nuriel asked.  Warlock nodded.  “How true does that statement feel?”</p>
<p>Warlock blew out a heavy sigh, “Not very.”</p>
<p>“Thinking back on it, what’s the worst image?”</p>
<p>“Daddy shouting at me.”</p>
<p>“And what is the negative belief that goes with it?”</p>
<p>Warlock felt his eyes stinging with tears.  “That I’m damned,” he whispered.  </p>
<p>Crowley snorted loudly.  Aziraphale shot her a look.  “What?” she said, “I can answer that right now!”  She glanced at Nuriel, who nodded, then looked at Warlock, “Warlock, <b>no one</b> is going to Hell <b>solely</b> because they’re gay, or pan, or bi, or experimented in college, or any other version of ‘not 100% straight.’   Hell’s got much more interesting sins to worry about, they don’t care who you fall in love with <span class="small">well unless you’re a demon who fell in love with an angel</span> but that’s beside the point!   The point is, there’s a lot more to it than that.  You don’t go there just for being a swotty brat either.  Don’t listen to him, Hellspawn.  Listen to me.”</p>
<p>“She’d know,” Aziraphale confirmed, “And so would I.  Respect for consent is what they’re looking for, not the gender of who’s giving it.”</p>
<p>“Thank you,” Warlock whispered, swallowing.</p>
<p>“That’s as close to the word of God as you’re going to get,” Nuriel smiled, “Okay?”  Warlock nodded.  “So what does that do for that negative belief?”</p>
<p>“A whole lot,” he admitted. </p>
<p>“And the positive belief?  How true does that feel?”</p>
<p>Warlock blew out another heavy sigh, “A lot more true.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to go ahead?”</p>
<p>He nodded, “Yes please.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  So <i>now</i> what’s the negative belief that goes with that worst image?”</p>
<p>Warlock closed his eyes and let the memory come back.  With the threat of damnation lifted…  “That I’m a big-ass waste of time and money,” he sighed, “Just a big-ass disappointment.”</p>
<p>“Which one carries more weight?”</p>
<p>“Big-ass disappointment,” Warlock sighed.  </p>
<p>Aziraphale inhaled to speak.  Nuriel flicked their eyes to him and he let it out again.   “And what positive belief do you want to believe instead?” they asked. </p>
<p>“I used to believe I was worth something,” Warlock replied in a low voice, “I’d like to believe that again.”</p>
<p>“And how would you rate that belief now?”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “I think I just shot it all down, to be honest.”  He shook his head again, “One.  Maybe two.”</p>
<p>“And what do you feel, when you think about that worst part?”</p>
<p>“Disappointed in myself,” Warlock said.  Something on the cusp of his hearing might have been Nanny hissing.</p>
<p>“And how would you rate your distress?”</p>
<p>“Eight.  Nine.  Feels like I could throw up again.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  So hold with that and follow my fingers, okay?  And just notice whatever you notice,” Nuriel said.  Warlock nodded and they began waving their fingers side to side, letting Warlock follow them with his eyes.  After about thirty seconds, they stopped, “And breathe… What are you noticing now?”</p>
<p>“Fear… Christ, I just shot down every lifeline I’ve got, haven’t I?”</p>
<p>“Go with that.”</p>
<p>“Fuck I just shot everything down… I fuck everything up…”</p>
<p>“Go with that,” Nuriel said gently, “And breathe… What do you notice now?”</p>
<p>“They put me in that place because I’m so fucked up.”</p>
<p>“’Kay, go with that.”</p>
<p>“Grinding beneath my heel is not what’s happening here,” Warlock sighed heavily, “I am <b>not</b> what Nanny wanted me to be.”</p>
<p>“Go with that,” Nuriel said, flicking their eyes to forestall Crowley’s outburst.  “And breathe… What are you noticing now?”</p>
<p>“Daddy’s a really shitty actor,” Warlock said after a few minutes. </p>
<p>Nuriel smiled, “Go with that.”</p>
<p>After another thirty seconds, Warlock shook his head, “He keeps saying he cares but he’s doing this over Skype, like, he doesn’t even care enough to come and yell at me in person.”</p>
<p>“Go with that.”</p>
<p>“…..should probably be glad that he’s doing this over Skype…”  Abruptly Warlock giggled, “His face when Nanny showed up behind me…!”</p>
<p>“Go with that……  and deep breath….. And what do you notice now?”</p>
<p>“Daddy is fucking <b>scared</b> of Nanny!”</p>
<p>“’Kay, go with that.”</p>
<p>After a few minutes, Warlock murmured, “I never realized how scary Nanny can be.”  He was silent for a few more moments.  “I think I was the only one who wasn’t scared of her.”  After a few more moments he murmured, “Everything he said was… Can’t believe she managed to draw out what he’s really like.   Everyone saw what he’s really like.”</p>
<p>“Deep breath.”  He obeyed.  “What do you notice now?”</p>
<p>Warlock took another breath before answering.  “I can’t believe I told him to fuck off.  Like, <i>actually</i> mean it…”  He sighed, “I don’t think I could have done that without you guys giving me a place to stay.”</p>
<p>“Sadly not uncommon,” Nuriel agreed, “We wish we could give every kid a safe home who needs one but there are some miracles that are beyond us, beyond even Crowley.  What do you notice now?”</p>
<p>“I think Jacob nailed it,” Warlock said finally, “I miss who I thought they were.  But they never really were those people, were they.”</p>
<p>“Do you want to check back with the original target image?” Nuriel asked, “See how it feels on the distress scale?”  </p>
<p>Warlock nodded and let himself think back to the image of his father alternating pleading with him and yelling slurs at him.  Already it felt more distant.  “Two, maybe… one… Closer to one.”</p>
<p>“Is there anything that could be keeping it from being zero?”</p>
<p>Warlock thought about it then shrugged, “Still feel a little bit like a waste of time… Not as much though.”</p>
<p>“How would you rate that positive belief now, that you’re worth something?”</p>
<p>“’About a seven, seven and a half.”</p>
<p>Nuriel grinned, “Annnnd I think your Nanny has something to say about that and if I don’t let her, she’s going to explode.”</p>
<p>Warlock obediently turned to look at Crowley.  “Hellspawn, what did you mean by you’re not what Nanny wanted you to be?” she said, in the softest voice he’d ever known her to use. </p>
<p>Warlock looked down at his fingers, twining in his lap.  “I didn’t exactly grind him beneath my heels,” he sighed.</p>
<p>“You did, though,” Crowley said gently and reached up to stroke her fingers through his hair, “In here.  You’re grinding him right now, taking away his power to haunt you and taking away his most prized possession.”  Warlock nodded and she sighed, “I’m sorry we contributed to this.  What we wanted for you was… complex.  Remember, we thought you were the Antichrist.”  He nodded again.  “So we had to raise you according to those influences, but what we <i>really</i> wanted was to cancel each other out and you grow up to be an ordinary human, with ordinary human problems.  Which you have.”</p>
<p>Warlock snorted, “Only because I’m not <i>actually</i> the Antichrist.”</p>
<p>“No, you’re not,” Aziraphale said, “And you're in no way a waste of our time.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  He took a few deep breaths then turned back to Nuriel.  “About nine, now.”</p>
<p>Nuriel smiled, “You want to go with that?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again, “Yeah.”</p>
<p>They raised their fingers again, “Okay, let’s do another set with that.”  A minute later, “What are you noticing now?”</p>
<p>Warlock sighed, “Feels a lot better.”</p>
<p>Nuriel tipped their head, “How’s that positive belief doing?”</p>
<p>“About a nine,” Warlock nodded.</p>
<p>“And the worst image?”</p>
<p>Warlock sighed and scraped his hand through his hair then shook his head, “Just about zero, I think.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Nuriel smiled, “We’ll do one more set to install that and then body scan, okay?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yes please.”  He followed Nuriel’s fingers for another set then patted himself down.  <i>Feet on the floor, bum on the chair, kinda chilly, kind of hungry kind of not…</i>  “Feel like I could use another nap,” he sighed with a half grin.</p>
<p>“You take all the sleep you need, kiddo,” Nuriel smiled, “You’re going through a rough time here, it’s hard on your body.  You don’t have to feel bad for yielding to it.”  Warlock nodded.  “How is it now?”</p>
<p>Warlock closed his eyes for a few moments then he nodded.  “Better.  Thank you.”  He reached out to hug Nuriel, then Crowley, then Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Okay,” Nuriel smiled, “How about you help me make some supper, we’ll get some food into you and you can go get some more sleep, how’s that sound?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded then shook his head with a little grin, “I don’t think you should let me have any knives right now.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0007"><h2>7. The Vision of the Egg</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warlock stroked his hand over a hen, “They aren’t who I thought they were, either.  Aziraphale barely even <i>looks</i> like Brother Francis.  They…”  He stopped.  “The people I loved didn’t really exist.  They were just…. Just <i>roles</i>, just… pretend…”  Muriel waited.  “…They were lies…. Weren’t they….”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Muriel agreed softly.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The room was painted blue by the dawn light rising on the other side of the farm house.  Warlock woke slowly, feeling more rested than he had all week.  He lay in bed for a little while until a sound in the room outside caught his attention.  He got up and cracked open the door of his room, to see Muriel crouched in front of the old stove, feeding up the fire.</p>
<p>She turned and looked over her shoulder.  “You’re awake early,” she whispered.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  My sleep schedule’s totally shot now.”</p>
<p>She put the poker down and closed the stove then crossed over to the door of Warlock’s room. “How are you doing?”  He shrugged.  “How are you feeling about Crowley and Aziraphale?”</p>
<p>He sighed and stepped back to let her into the room.  “It feels weird,” he admitted, sitting down on the bed, “They thought I was the Antichrist.”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Muriel sat down beside him. </p>
<p>“But I’m not.  I’m just ordinary.”</p>
<p>Muriel chewed her lip.  “How are you feeling about that?”</p>
<p>Warlock thought for a long time.  “I thought… I used to think they were the only ones who actually seemed to love me but now… but if they were only interested in me because they thought I was the Antichrist…”</p>
<p>“They both came running as soon as I’d called Aziraphale,” Muriel whispered, “And they’re both very worried about the damage they’ve already caused you and that these revelations are causing you further damage.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  He put his chin on his knees and let his eyes fill with tears.  “I guess that’s what makes it different,” he said softly, “Mummy and Daddy wouldn’t even admit there is any damage.  Nanny wants me to stay here to fix me.   ….at least that’s what she says…”</p>
<p>“Crowley doesn’t lie to the people he cares about,” Muriel nodded, “They’ve been talking about how to get you into schooling in England and whether you’d prefer to live at their cottage or in London in Crowley’s flat.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  He put his forehead on his knees for a few moments then turned his head to rest his cheek instead, “Everything feels so fucked up.”</p>
<p>“It was a very fucked up time,” Muriel agreed.</p>
<p>“I guess that’s why <i>I’m</i> fucked up,” Warlock sighed, “I feel like… I want to go home but there’s no home to go to.  Does that make sense?”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled sadly, “Yes.  Yes it does.”</p>
<p>“…I miss who I thought they were.”</p>
<p>“Your parents?  Or Aziraphale and Crowley?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”  Warlock looked at her again, “Though I guess I did turn out the way they wanted me to.  I don’t really have any desire to destroy the whole world.  Just certain parts of it.  And Satan can blow goats.”  Muriel barked a laugh and clapped her hand over her mouth.  Warlock grinned just a little, “So I guess that turned out okay.”  He sighed again, “And it’s not like Nanny didn’t warn me.  She told me a lot, people are just acting roles through life, nobody is ever really what you think they are.”</p>
<p>“How are you feeling now?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know,” Warlock whispered after a few minutes’ thought.  </p>
<p>“I think what you’re looking for is forgiveness,” Muriel said finally, and Warlock turned to look at her again.  “That’s a very human concept.  Heaven’s not real big on it - they’d rather just shove everyone into a big pit of boiling sulphur or a column of Hellfire.  Hell’s never heard of it.”</p>
<p>“Nanny said it’s just permission to do it again.”</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, “Well… he’s not <i>wrong</i>, let’s put it that way.  For some people, it really is just permission to do it again.  But if you asked Crowley <b>now</b>, I think he’d say something quite different.”</p>
<p>“Why?”</p>
<p>“Because he’s been forgiven, himself.  He’s the Second Forgiven, reconciling with God.”</p>
<p>Warlock stared, “…Wow.”</p>
<p>“It’s a long process,” Muriel admitted, “Reconciliation isn’t going easily for either of them but they’re both invested.”</p>
<p>Warlock thought about that then shook his head, “I.. don’t think I really know what it is.”</p>
<p>“No, it’s not really something your culture is very fond of these days, is it?” Muriel sighed, “It’s a lot like Heaven that way - you’re either in or you’re out.”</p>
<p>“I thought… God was supposed to be all-forgiving?”</p>
<p>Muriel smirked, “If that were true, we wouldn’t have very many demons.”</p>
<p>“How many demons are there?”</p>
<p>“Ten million.”</p>
<p>“….oh,” said Warlock.</p>
<p>“Wellll… Nine million, nine hundred ninety-nine thousand, nine hundred ninety-seven,” Muriel grinned, “They lost a few about six years ago.”</p>
<p>“Oh.”</p>
<p>“We can talk about it more after breakfast, if you want.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, please.  I don’t… I wanted to see Nanny again for so long… I mean, despite that they were weird, I have good memories of her and Brother Francis and they really did teach me useful stuff, stuff that’s real… I don’t… I don’t really want to lose that…”</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, “Let’s get some food into you and then we’ll talk some more about what you’d like to have happen.  Do you need a break from them?  They’re still here to support you but if supporting you means giving you a break from them, they’ll go.”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head immediately, “No.  No, I… I want them to stay, if that’s alright?  I know it’s your house…”</p>
<p>“If they get in the way, we’ll just stash them in the basement,” Muriel grinned, “Put them in the barn.  Crowley can eat the mice.”</p>
<p>Warlock gaped, “Crowley eats <i>mice?!</i>”</p>
<p>Muriel chuckled, “Actually he mostly just watches Aziraphale eat.  He’ll watch Aziraphale eat the mice.”</p>
<p>“….At this point, I don’t know if you’re serious,” Warlock sighed.  He followed Muriel down the stairs, keeping as quiet as he could on the creaky old staircase.  In the kitchen, there was a large pot of grainy porridge on the wood stove hob and he scooped some into his bowl and loaded it with milk, cream, and maple syrup.  He poured a cup of tea and sighed, listening to the distant voices as Muriel talked with Crowley and Aziraphale.</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”…used to eat dormice back in Rome, do you remember?  We had that big argument.”</span>
</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”Just because I’m a snake doesn’t mean I eat mice!  That’s… that’s speciesist, that’s what it is!”</span>
</p>
<p>Warlock thought of the massive snake rearing up to look him in the eyes, then becoming the Nanny he knew and loved so well.  And all the times he’d cuddled with Sister Black Snake, while Brother Francis poured him tea and chattered on about love.  …He’d never talked about forgiveness.  Warlock frowned and sifted through his memories.  No, for all that Brother Francis talked about loving all creatures great and small, he’d never talked about forgiving them.  And he’d never talked about how to reconcile. </p>
<p>Apparently they’d argued, yet they were very much in love, that was obvious.  Warlock’s parents argued (oh did they ever argue) but they never apologised and if they ever forgave, it wasn’t in Warlock’s hearing.   And if asked if his parents were still in love, Warlock would be hard pressed to say ‘yes.’ </p>
<p>He sat back and stared at his bowl, not really seeing it.  Nanny and Brother Francis weren’t who he thought they were and he wasn’t who they thought he was - where did that leave him?</p>
<p>
  <i>”Maybe that’s what you’re here to discover.”</i>
</p>
<p>“Morning,” a voice whispered.</p>
<p>Warlock looked up to see Avery ladling porridge into a bowl.  He smiled, “Hey!”</p>
<p>“You doing okay?  Heard you had a rough day yesterday.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, it was rough. I had to tell Daddy to call off the manhunt and tell him I’m not coming back.  Now they’re trying to get the courts to let Nanny keep me.”</p>
<p>Avery’s eyes widened, “<i>Tant Crow</i> is your <i>nanny</i>?”</p>
<p>Warlock frowned, “’Tant Crow?’”</p>
<p>“That’s what we call Crowley,” Avery nodded, “Mister Fell is just Mister Fell.  Jacob just loves him.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  He’s pretty wonderful alright,” Warlock agreed.</p>
<p>Avery shifted in zir seat.  “I hope the judge lets you stay,” ze said softly, “’Cause then Tant Crow and Mister Fell will let you come and visit.”</p>
<p>“I hope so too.  They want me to stay here for a while ‘cause Muriel and Nuriel can help me better.”</p>
<p>Avery nodded again, “Jacob said you were interested in learning MBSR with us.  Do you want to meditate with us tonight?  It helps to give your mind a bit of a break from it all.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, yeah, that sounds… that sounds like something I need right now.  Thanks.”</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”<b>TANT CROW!</b>”</span>
</p>
<p>Avery looked around at the sound of thumping feet and grinned, “Sounds like North is awake.  …Oh and Jazz, there’s the other set of feet. I better go help out.  Have a good time with Mom!”</p>
<p>“Thanks, I’m… I’m sorry I keep taking so much of their time…” Warlock abruptly felt guilty, “You guys need them too…”</p>
<p>Avery shook zir head, “It’s okay, you’ll see.  We know how it is when a new kid comes in. They need first aid, first of all.  But you’ll see, every night they do check-ins with everyone else and see if we need anything or if we need any attention.  Like Jacob.  But it’s okay!  Like, seriously, if you need anything or you want some attention, like hugs or anything, it’s okay.  Like, we won’t brush you off, here.  If we’re doing something else, we just include you.  Like, it’s okay.  Dude…”  Warlock’s eyes had filled with tears.  Avery shoved a box of tissues over.  “You want a hug?”  Warlock nodded and Avery hugged him tight, “I’m sorry I upset you!”</p>
<p>“You didn’t, it’s,” Warlock sniffled, “My dad’s never home and my mum… I only just annoyed her… Brother Francis always had time for me and he taught me things…  I guess it just…”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I get you,” Avery said softly, “So does Jacob.  We’ve been there too.  It’s gonna get better, War, it really is.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock sniffed, “I believe that.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>Warlock reached into a nest box and withdrew an egg, “And like I said, Nanny always said forgiving people was just giving them permission to do it again.”  He reached into another nest box and sighed, “Mummy and Daddy never even really apologised.  I don’t think they ever forgave anything.  They just wanted to get even.”</p>
<p>“Which makes sense for who they are,” Muriel nodded. </p>
<p>“I realised Brother Francis - that’s Aziraphale, I guess…  He never really talked much about forgiveness.”</p>
<p>“I’m not surprised,” Muriel nodded, “The concept is known in Heaven but not much practised.  It’s a human idea that got adopted by Heaven partway, kind of like gender.”  Warlock laughed a little at that.  “I’ve had to learn a lot about it, over the years,” Muriel continued, reaching carefully under a hen, “It doesn’t appear to be in fashion recently.”</p>
<p>“No,” Warlock agreed, “So… what is it?”</p>
<p>“It’s a step in a process, ideally, but really, each bit is independent and doesn’t necessitate the other bits,” Muriel said.  She scraped soiled bedding out of a nest box and gathered up fresh to replace it, “Ideally, the offender acknowledges the offence and apologises, and ideally offers restitution, which is repairing the offence.  Then the offended considers whether or not forgiveness can be granted.  Forgiveness may or may not lead to reconciliation, which is repairing the relationship.  Make sense?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded slowly, thoughtful.  He sighed, “I’m not even sure what the offence is.”</p>
<p>Muriel paused.  “We heard the bitterness in your voice,” she said gently.</p>
<p>He nodded, “Yeah.  They thought I was the Antichrist… I only grew up ordinary because I <b>am</b> ordinary.”  He sighed and raked his fingers through his hair, “I thought they were… “  He stroked his hand over a hen, “They aren’t who I thought they were, either.  Aziraphale barely even <i>looks</i> like Brother Francis.  They…”  He stopped.  “The people I loved didn’t really exist.  They were just…. Just <i>roles</i>, just… pretend…”  Muriel waited.  “…They were lies…. Weren’t they….”</p>
<p>“Yes,” Muriel agreed softly.</p>
<p>Warlock covered his face with his hands for a few moments then dragged them down his face with a heavy sigh, “I guess it would have been the same if I’d been the real Antichrist, though, wouldn’t it?”</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, “Yes. They had to be undercover because they were, well technically they were violating orders.  Both Heaven and Hell <b>wanted</b> the Apocalypse - Crowley and Aziraphale did not, they wanted to save the world.  So they devised a plan and convinced their respective sides that the other side was up to something and they were going undercover to thwart it.”</p>
<p>Warlock stood a little straighter and nodded, “Okay.. Yeah.  That makes sense.  That’s kind of clever, actually.”  He rooted in another nest box and placed a pair of eggs in his basket.  “It helps, knowing there was a bigger picture.   ….Was there a real Antichrist?”</p>
<p>“Oh yes,” Muriel said emphatically, “And he was born the same night as you.”</p>
<p>“But he didn’t get Nanny and Brother Francis.  But… the world didn’t end, anyways?”</p>
<p>Muriel grinned, “Remember anything about Atlantis rising?  Seas boiling and Kraken hunting whaling ships?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that shit was <i>weird!</i>  And then they told us it was all mass hallucinations, like what the fuck?”</p>
<p>“Exactly.”</p>
<p>“So what happened?”</p>
<p>“Heaven and Hell thought it was all going to go down on the plains at Megiddo,” Muriel grinned slyly, “Where some little decoy Antichrist bought Crowley and Aziraphale the time they needed to find the real Antichrist and give him the support he needed at the time he most needed it.”</p>
<p>“Wow,” Warlock breathed, “So… that weird guy who was so freaked about about a dog…”</p>
<p>“He was looking for the Hellhound,” Muriel nodded, “That was Hastur, Duke of Hell.  Crowley’s old handler.”</p>
<p>“He smelled like poo.”</p>
<p>“Crowley said the hardest thing he ever had to do was <b>not laugh</b> at that.”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned.  “So… but… wasn’t that a coincidence, though?  Or was I meant to do that?”</p>
<p>Muriel chewed her lip thoughtfully, “I think Aziraphale would say it was part of the Ineffable Plan and I think he’s probably right.  It’s the things that make sense when looked at in hindsight that tend to be part of the Ineffable Plan.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again.  “So… maybe… I <i>wasn’t</i> a waste of their time…?  If I was supposed to be the decoy Antichrist?”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled, “What did Aziraphale say?”</p>
<p>“He said I wasn’t,” Warlock agreed.  He scrubbed his hand through his hair again with another heavy sigh, “’The needs of the many outweigh the needs of the few or the one.’”</p>
<p>Muriel’s voice was gentle, “That doesn’t mean the one didn’t get hurt, along the way.  It’s better to understand the full magnitude of the hurt, though, before you make a decision.”</p>
<p>“Yeah… Yeah, it is.  It helps.”</p>
<p>“I know you’d already made the decision to forgive.  Now knowing all of that, how do you feel about it now?”</p>
<p>Warlock stooped to pet a hen that was pecking at his shoelace.  “I guess I still don’t really know what it means.”</p>
<p>Muriel bent to clean out another nesting box, “And it’s not easy to explain, even for humans. A lot of humans think it’s the same thing as reconciliation but it’s not, they’re two separate steps.  You can forgive someone and not want to reconcile with them, you can forgive them but not want them in your life anymore.”  Warlock reached for fresh bedding to help her.  “It does take empathy and compassion.  It takes understanding the bigger picture and recognising that maybe the other person wasn’t exactly malicious, maybe they just messed up - if that’s actually the case.”  She straightened up to look at him, “Crowley’s not wrong, per se - for a lot of people, forgiving them really is just giving them permission to do it again, and there are lots of people who’ll just abuse someone over and over and over again because they know they’ll be forgiven.  Heck, some religions even have that cycle coded into them, they teach it as mandatory!”</p>
<p>Warlock straightened up, his eyes wide, “Like Mummy and Daddy’s church!  Like, the pastor tells it like I’m supposed to just be like ‘it’s okay’, no matter what!  Like I’m supposed to just let them just walk all over me!”</p>
<p>“Exactly,” Muriel said, reaching for another nest box, “A lot of it is letting go of the desire for revenge or to get even, but a lot of it is trying to understand what was motivating the other person.  The hurt doesn’t go away, exactly, but it does remove a lot of the power to continue hurting you, so you can focus on healing.  You can heal without forgiving, though.  There really are some things that just aren’t forgivable.  And, like Crowley told you, some people just aren’t forgivable.”</p>
<p>Warlock scraped the bedding out of the nest box, thoughtful, “This is a lot different from just ‘yeah whatever it’s okay.’”</p>
<p>“It is,” Muriel agreed, “Not surprising, it’s not in fashion anymore, really.”</p>
<p>“My parents definitely don’t practice it this way,” Warlock said, “Mummy just… like, Daddy cheats on her over and over and she just… ‘yeah, whatever’, and either gets drunk or gets even.”</p>
<p>“And Daddy?”</p>
<p>Warlock burst into bitter laughter, “Daddy once ruined a guy’s career!  Everyone has to forgive Daddy but Daddy never forgives anybody!”</p>
<p>“Not really a surprise,” Muriel sighed, “So, how do you feel now?  Knowing what you know now, about what was motivating Aziraphale and Crowley, do you want to forgive them?”</p>
<p>Warlock sat on the edge of a nest box and thought about it.  “They had a lot of big things to worry about.  I mean, they also wanted me to be someone I’m not but it wasn’t for, for selfish reasons.  They didn’t want me to carry on a family legacy, they wanted to save everyone in the world.  And.. They kind of wanted me to be someone I already am, an ordinary person.”</p>
<p>“Empathy and compassion,” Muriel nodded.</p>
<p>“And they said they’re sorry.  And they want me to stay here to fix me…”</p>
<p>“Apology and offer of restitution,” Muriel acknowledged. </p>
<p>“My parents won’t do that.  They just called me an ungrateful shit,” Warlock’s voice was bitter, “I think that’s the difference.  Even if Nanny and Brother Francis were pretend, I don’t think their caring was.”</p>
<p> “You said you didn’t want to lose the relationship but now you understand better what the relationship was really about.  How do you feel about it now?”</p>
<p>“I still want that,” Warlock said, after some thought, “I guess… I guess the first step is learning who they really are?  Aziraphale and Crowley?”</p>
<p>“How do you feel now?”</p>
<p>Warlock blew out a relieved sigh, “Better.  Yeah.  A lot more clear about it all.”</p>
<p>Muriel’s smile was brilliant.  “Good.  Let’s brush these eggs clean and take them in.  We’ll do another egg round this afternoon, okay?”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Warlock said.  He looked down at himself, “I think I’m going to need some other clothes soon.”</p>
<p>“You want to go shopping today?  Shops are open.”</p>
<p>Warlock paused, “I… um, I had to leave my wallet and stuff…”</p>
<p>“Oh Crowley’s already offered to subsidise you.”</p>
<p>“Oh.  Okay, then.”</p>
<p>Muriel watched him.  “What would you like?  Do you want to go with them?  Or, Avery needs some new clothes, do you want to come with us?  Or make a trip out of it with all of us?”</p>
<p>Warlock sighed, “Yeah… Maybe something…. Kind of ordinary for a little while?”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled warmly, “Yeah.  We can do that.”  She offered her arm and Warlock fell in gratefully for a hug.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0008"><h2>8. The Vision of Peace</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The trousers were made of a soft, drapey fabric, gathered at the ankle, with a tie at the waist.  They were tie-dyed and the pair in reds, oranges, and blacks looked like fiery embers.  They were gorgeous - and utterly unlike anything Warlock would ever be allowed to wear.  If he was at home. </p>
<p>Crowley nudged him, “Go on.”  Warlock stared up at him with anxious eyes.  Then he reached out and found a pair that looked about his size.  The fabric felt silky.  If he wore them, he’d look like his legs were on fire.  If he wore them… </p>
<p>And then the voices in his head started screaming.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Content warnings: Anxiety attacks, gender presentation uncertainty, and Mindfulness Based Stress Reduction (MBSR) therapy</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>In a lot of ways, Crowley was <b>very</b> different from Nanny Ash, Warlock was thinking.  His stride, for one thing.  Nanny’s walk was purposeful, intended to carry her to her destination and destroy anything that lay in her path.  Crowley’s walk was much more relaxed, with a looser, longer stride and a sway that made his hips look like they were not quite attached to his legs or possibly anything else. </p>
<p>“He saunters!” said Nuriel happily, when Warlock commented on it, “We had a debate about it one day and decided that was the best word.  He’s walked like that for as long as I’ve known him.”</p>
<p>Right now they were sauntering down the main street, looking in the shop windows.  It was just Warlock, Crowley, Nuriel and Avery.  Aziraphale stayed behind to talk with Jacob and Muriel was taking care of North and Jasmine.  Nuriel was picking up winter clothing for the little ones.  Avery was shopping for zirself and Jacob.   And Warlock was struggling. </p>
<p>Crowley noticed it.  He sidled up beside Warlock and whispered, “What’s wrong?”</p>
<p>Warlock tore his eyes away from a particularly dazzling pair of trousers in a boutique window, “It’s…”</p>
<p>“You like them?  Let’s go in and try some on.”</p>
<p>“What’s up? <i>Ohh!</i>” Avery’s eyes went wide, “<b>Cool pants!!!</b>”</p>
<p>Crowley grinned, “Yeah, we were about to go have a look.”  He chuckled as Avery pushed the shop door open and grabbed Warlock’s hand to drag him inside.</p>
<p>The trousers were made of a soft, drapey fabric, gathered at the ankle, with a tie at the waist.  They were tie-dyed and the pair in reds, oranges, and blacks looked like fiery embers.  They were gorgeous - and utterly unlike anything Warlock would ever be allowed to wear.  If he was at home. </p>
<p>Crowley nudged him, “Go on.”  Warlock stared up at him with anxious eyes.  Then he reached out and found a pair that looked about his size.  The fabric felt silky.  If he wore them, he’d look like his legs were on fire.  If he wore them… </p>
<p>And then the voices in his head started screaming. </p>
<p><i>It’s just trousers,</i> Warlock told himself.  The voices screamed back and he winced.  <i>I told Daddy to fuck off.</i></p>
<p>“Tah-dahhh!” Avery bounced out of the change room, showing a pair in ice blues, pale greys, and blacks that looked like ice over a pond.</p>
<p>“Those look great,” Warlock said, feeling a twist of envy.   Despite the light fabric, the trousers felt heavy in his hand. </p>
<p>Nuriel twitched them from his hand, sized them up against his body, and threw them over their arm with a grin.  “Baby steps,” they whispered.  Crowley smiled.  Warlock’s heart was pounding.</p>
<p>He left the store with the new bag weighing heavy on his wrist.</p>
<p>T-shirts, flannels, pyjamas, jumpers, a parka - the rest of the shopping was less eventful until he saw the kilt. </p>
<p>“Yeah, even when you were eleven, you had your eye on those,” Crowley chuckled.</p>
<p>“It’s expensive,” Warlock said doubtfully.  It was a utility kilt made of heavy canvas with steel rivets and pockets.  Crowley was right - Warlock had longed for one of these for a long, long time - much to the wrath of his father and dismay of his mother.</p>
<p>“That one, you would have to try on,” Crowley said.  He looked at Warlock, “Well?”  Still Warlock wavered.  “If it’s a well-made garment, it’ll last you for years if you take care of it.  Break the cost down over the projected lifespan of the garment and it isn’t so bad.”  Warlock looked up.  Crowley was smiling, “No harm in trying one on, is there?”</p>
<p>“I guess not,” Warlock said.  He didn’t hear Nuriel snort, behind them, as they went into the shop.</p>
<p>It didn’t take long for the shop clerk to measure him up and find him a kilt in his size.  A deep thunder grey, it would go with, well, just about anything he chose to wear with it, really.  And Crowley was right — it had an adjustable back that would carry him through several size changes if he gained weight, so very likely he could wear it for years.</p>
<p>It fit almost perfectly. </p>
<p>And his head started screaming again.  “Try it with these?” Crowley held out a pair of knee-high socks.  Arguing with himself, Warlock tried them on.  Then, feeling strange, his stomach in knots, he turned to look in the mirror. </p>
<p>Even with his hoody and trainers, it looked great. </p>
<p>“Want to wear it out?” Crowley said softly.</p>
<p>Warlock looked at him, “Do I have to…. You know…”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckled and shook his head, “No and we still need to make a stop for that, might as well get you some that will be comfortable with that.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded slowly and turned to look at his reflection again.  He really did like the look of it… but… wearing it outside?  On the street?  In public?   His heart was thunder in his ears. </p>
<p>“You look awesome!!”  He turned to see Avery bouncing up.  “War!  Are you wearing that?  It looks <b>great!</b>”</p>
<p>Warlock swallowed several times.  He chewed his lip and looked at himself in the mirror again.  He glanced up at Crowley again, who smiled, “If anyone gives you any bad looks, I’ll give them a Bad Look right back,  how’s that sound?”</p>
<p>Finally Warlock nodded, feeling like his stomach was doing flips.  “Yeah.  Yeah, okay, I… I will.”</p>
<p>“Awesome!” Avery grabbed Warlock’s jeans and bounced up to the till.  </p>
<p><span class="small">”Did you just <b>tempt</b> him into getting a kilt?”</span> Warlock heard Nuriel whisper.</p>
<p><span class="small">”Shh,”</span> said Crowley, <span class="small">”Might have done,  yeah.”</span>  He flipped out his credit card and laid it on the counter.  Warlock glanced at it and frowned a little, then shook it off for now. </p>
<p>Then he walked out of the store in his new kilt.  And tried not to vomit, imagining stares from every face on the street.   But nobody was actually looking at him.  </p>
<p>“You’re doing great!” Avery whispered. </p>
<p>He started to relax, just a little. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“Like, your mind’s gonna fly off in different directions, okay?  And that’s okay,” Avery was saying, “Just concentrate on your breathing.  Just bring it back to your breath.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “I’ll try.”</p>
<p>They were in the large room on the upper storey of the farmhouse, warming up near the wood stove, underneath the lantern hanging from the boss in the ceiling.  Warlock was wearing his new flame-coloured trousers and feeling…. A lot of things.  Among them, the soft fabric of the trousers.</p>
<p>It turned out that quite a lot of what Muriel and Nuriel had had him doing was part of this “mindfulness” thing.  They didn’t mean it the way his mother did, when she cautioned him to be “mindful” of how he behaved at functions or what he said around people.  They meant it as being aware of what his body was doing, what his senses were receiving, what he was doing at any given moment - all the grounding questions stuff.   Now Avery was teaching him the meditation part.</p>
<p>Following on Warlock’s comment about giving his mind a break, Avery had decided to start with the breathing meditation instead of the body scan  meditation.  “And don’t worry about it if it just doesn’t seem to happen right away.  Like, if you’re lucky, you might get a blank spot that lasts maybe two or three seconds before you’re flying off again,” ze assured him, “Don’t worry about it, just go back to your breath.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again.  He closed his eyes and inhaled slowly, trying to concentrate on how it felt, the sensations of breathing.  How the air felt flowing into his nostrils, how his belly and chest expanded, the feeling of his diaphragm.   <i>This is bullshit</i>  He wasn’t certain whether that came from himself or from his father.  He concentrated on his breath, feeling only one nostril breathing.  That was interesting.  <i>This is for wimps</i>  Okay that was definitely Dad.  <i>Fuck off, Dad.</i>  Breathing.  Only breathing.  Inhale.  Exhale.   <i>What is this supposed to accomplish?</i>  Inhale.  Exhale.  <i>This is a waste of time.</i>  In.  Out.  In.  Out.  <i>Avery and Jacob do this.  North and Jasmine do this. And they’re all doing a fuck of a lot better than I am so maybe we just shut up and see how it goes.</i>  In.  Out.   Inhale.  Exhale.  <i>Did it just change nostrils?  Yeah it did.  That’s weird.  Is that weird?</i>  Inhale.  Exhale.  </p>
<p>Eventually he felt his mind relax.  And then… there was peace. </p>
<p><i>I did it! ..oh shit, I just…   I guess Avery wasn’t kidding about that… </i> </p>
<p>
  <i>I’ll try again.</i>
</p>
<p>Inhale.  Exhale.  </p>
<p>Inhale.  Exhale.  </p>
<p>Inhale.</p>
<p>Exhale.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0009"><h2>9. The Vision of the Book</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Warlock turned a few pages and tapped a drawing and a description, “This one’s been bothering me.  I’m seeing it more often so I think it might be coming up soon.  Is there anything you can do to stop it from happening?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale read the entry and pursed his lips.  He went silent for several minutes, long enough for Warlock to get uncomfortable.  Finally he looked up and his expression was answer enough.</p>
<p>Warlock sighed, “Not much of a gift.  What’s the point of having it, then?”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>I can<b>not</b> thank my sensitivity betas enough for their assistance with this chapter.   I'm also indebted to the denizens of one of the Discord servers I hang out on, for a very lively discussion that helped enormously with the writing of this chapter, as well as with Jacob's experiences, and Warlock's thoughts and feelings as he starts exploring who he is and his relationship to who he was expected to be. </p>
<p>Gratitude also to one of my acquaintances on Pillowfort for sharing their experiences with dairy goats and hens.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The floorboards creaked.  Warlock opened his eyes and sat up, hearing footsteps.  He pulled his robe on and opened the door to see Jacob creeping out, chamberpot in hand.  “Sorry, did I wake you?” he whispered.</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “Nah, I’ve been awake for a bit.”</p>
<p>“You okay?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess.  My sleep schedule’s really fucked up now though.”</p>
<p>Jacob grinned, “yeah I guess.  I’m going out to do the chickens and the goats,  you wanna come with?”</p>
<p>“Yeah okay,” Warlock shrugged, “Let me get dressed.”</p>
<p>“Wear your jeans,” Jacob grinned. </p>
<p>The dawn air was chilly and Warlock was glad for his hoody.  He picked up a basket and started reaching into the nest boxes to retrieve the eggs. </p>
<p>“I like your new clothes,” Jacob said.</p>
<p>“Thanks,” Warlock smiled, “I’m still getting used to them.”</p>
<p>“Is it your first time?”</p>
<p>“First time what?”</p>
<p>“Wearing clothes like that?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock sighed, “I always… I always liked, y’know, people like Eddie Izzard and Alexzander, you know?”  Jacob nodded.  “I always liked their style and always kinda wished I could dress like that.  But my parents would have an absolute shitfit, you know?  They didn’t even want me to wear a Utilikilt.  Aw man, I loved Utilikilts, I always have.  Always wanted one.”</p>
<p>“Well you’re rocking it now,” Jacob grinned, “Although not recommended in the barns.”</p>
<p>Warlock laughed; there was a chicken pecking at his ankle.  “Yeah I guess not.”</p>
<p>“You always want to dress like that?  How are you feeling about it?”</p>
<p>“Better but kind of scared, you know?  But.. Yeah, better.  I always… I always <i>loved</i> Nanny’s look, like… Daddy and his friends always called her shit behind her back but like, I always loved how she looked.”</p>
<p>“Tant Crow?  Yeah, Tant Crow always looks awesome.”</p>
<p>“Not just her clothes but, like, her <i>look.</i>  Like… I dunno how to describe it.  And that was when she was <i>Nanny.</i>  Now she’s even more… I dunno…  I love Nuriel’s look too, and Avery’s.”</p>
<p>Jacob grinned, “It sounds like you really love agender.  Or non-binary or something.”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “I have no idea.  I barely understand what those words mean.”  He put another egg into his basket. </p>
<p>Jacob nodded, “I get it.  Your parents were pretty strict, I guess?”</p>
<p>Warlock blew out a raspberry, “Hell yeah!  They threw me in that camp ‘cause they think I’m gay.”</p>
<p>“Are you?”</p>
<p>“… I guess,” he sighed, “I mean, I don’t think guys are ugly.  I just… I don’t see what the hype is about girls, either.  I just… I dunno.  I watch the guys go all sort of… and the way they talk about girls is just…  I dunno.  I just, I can’t see myself doing that.  I never felt like I should do that.  And they send them <i>pictures,</i> like I mean who does that??”</p>
<p>Jacob scooped fresh bedding into a nest box, snorting with laughter, “Oh man…!  Yeah.  Yeah, you’re okay, you’re… Yeah.”</p>
<p>“What?  What does that make me?”</p>
<p>“Well from the sounds of it, a decent human being, for starters,” Jacob snorted.</p>
<p>“That’s probably Nanny’s fault,” Warlock sighed, “Someone sent her a <i>picture</i> once.”</p>
<p>“<b>Oh my God</b>, someone sent <i>Tant Crow</i> a <b>dick pic</b>?  Did they live?”</p>
<p>“It did not end well for him,” Warlock shook his head.  Jacob nearly fell into the nest box, laughing.  “What about you?”</p>
<p>“Eh, I’m okay,” Jacob shrugged, emptying another nest box.  He handed another egg to Warlock.  “I’m glad Mr. Fell is here, I like talking to him.   He helps me figure out what I want to be.”</p>
<p>“Be?”</p>
<p>“What kind of man I want to be, how I want to present, how I want to behave, that sort of thing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock nodded, “I can’t see <b>him</b> sending anyone a dick pic.”  </p>
<p>Jacob doubled over laughing.  “Oh man…!  Yeah… no, just.. Just no,” he wiped his eyes with the back of his hand.  “Let’s go feed the goats now.”</p>
<p>“Okay,” Warlock put the last eggs in his basket and followed Jacob out to the barn.  “Jesus that is a big spider!”</p>
<p>“Yeah that’s Attila,” Jacob chuckled, “North is afraid of him.”</p>
<p>“I really can’t blame her,” Warlock shuddered and edged carefully around the web.  “How many goats do you have?”</p>
<p>Jacob pulled a bale of feed down for the goats.  “Right now, just the four.  Bernice is almost ready to breed again, though.”</p>
<p>“Bernice?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, this one, she’s one of our milk nannies.  You like goat’s milk?  It took me a while to get used to it.”</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, “I dunno, I don’t think I’ve ever had it.  I’ve had goat cheese though, it was alright.  Kind of musky though.”</p>
<p>Jacob nodded, “Yeah.  Bernice is a Nigerian Dwarf goat, though, and the other two are Alpine goats.  Their milk tastes pretty good.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded and held still while the goats nosed around him, curious.  “So, um,” he started hesitantly, “What do those words mean?”</p>
<p>“What words?  Oh - gender fluid?  Agender?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  Like, my dad is always after me to be manly and shit and they really really freak out if I show any interest at all in anything that might be, y’know, girly or gay or anything like that.  They <b>flipped</b> when they saw me looking at a picture of Alexzander.”</p>
<p>Jacob nodded, “Yeah, I get it.  <span class="small">Oh boy do I get it.</span>”</p>
<p>Warlock tipped his head, “I’m sorry… am I bringing up bad stuff?”</p>
<p>Jacob shook his head, “Not you - your situation.  That was kind of me, a couple of years ago.  It… well, I know how you feel.  It’s… I mean, it’s stirring up memories, sure, but I mean… You need that right now, don’t you.”</p>
<p>Warlock heaved a sigh and nodded, “Yeah.  Yeah, I… I really do.  All of you, I mean… but you and Avery… So, I guess your parents were a lot like mine?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  They wanted me to be… you know… a girly girl.  But the thing is, I’ve always known that I’m a boy.  Like, I’ve known that forever.”  He reached out and touched Warlock’s bicep lightly, “But here’s the thing, not everyone knows right away.  But you know what you’re not and you know what you want to wear so start there and go with that.”</p>
<p>Warlock chewed his lip and felt his eyes prickle with tears.  He glanced up, “Do you think they’d let me grow my hair out?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, of course,” Jacob nodded.  He pursed his lips thoughtfully for a moment.  “What pronouns do you want us to use for you?  Like, she?  Ze? Avery uses ze.  Nuriel prefers singular they.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, they asked me that my first night here.  I said ‘he, I guess’, ‘cause I wasn’t really sure what they were asking.  I guess that’s still my answer for now.”  He glanced up, “I’ll tell you first if it changes?”</p>
<p>Jacob smiled widely, “You bet!  Now… You wanna learn how to milk goats?”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>The online school was a bit dodgy with the rural internet connection but Warlock didn’t mind.   He was mostly getting used to the interface, though he’d managed to get a start on two of his classes.  He pushed the keyboard back and rubbed his hand through his hair with a sigh — who’d’ve thought he’d be eager to get back to school?  So to speak… but the sense of routine gave a bit of normalcy back to him.   So this was his life now - wake up, eat breakfast, collect eggs, milk goats, do online school, check in with Muriel or Nuriel.  He could deal with this. </p>
<p>He glanced at the time and decided to get some lunch.  He went to the kitchen and grabbed a bowl of soup, made a sandwich, and poured a glass of milk.  Jacob was right, it did take a little getting used to, although the flavour wasn’t nearly as ‘goaty’ as some of the store milk Mom had bought during one of her health-food phases.  “Did you want to see my notebook?” he asked, “I brought it down.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked up from his book, looking over the tops of his glasses with a bright smile.  “I would love to see it, dear boy,” he said, “I collect books of prophecy, you see.  It’d be lovely to see what you have.”  Warlock pulled his notebook out and pushed it across the table.  Aziraphale got up to sit beside him.  He took it eagerly but reverently, carefully turning the pages by the edges as though it were already priceless.  “You’re quite an excellent artist,” he commented.</p>
<p>Warlock swallowed the bite he was chewing.  “Thanks.  Sometimes it’s easier to draw what I see.”</p>
<p>“This one’s very intriguing.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, that’s one I haven’t figured out yet.”</p>
<p>“It probably hasn’t happened yet,” Aziraphale nodded.  He turned another page, “Oh!  It’s Crowley!  Why, that’s her greenhouse at our cottage!”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned, “I called that one the Snake Woman because in some of my dreams and visions, she was dancing, like belly dancing.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked at him strangely, “Dancing, you say?  Crowley was dancing?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock nodded.   Aziraphale sat back with a strange expression, fingers hovering over the drawing,  not quite touching the paper.  “Is that… bad?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale shook his head, “Just the opposite, dear boy.  Dancing is… well, it’s a joyful activity, you see.  And there just isn’t much joy in a demon’s life.  They <i>can</i> dance but they’re seldom moved to do so.”</p>
<p>“She was just dancing around while she was doing stuff in the greenhouse,” Warlock said, “There wasn’t anybody with her.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale heaved another strange sigh.  “These are… very good tidings you bring me, dear boy.  Crowley, dancing… well, it tells me that she’s happy.  I do worry about that.”</p>
<p>Warlock just nodded, a little mystified.   He turned a few pages and tapped a drawing and a description, “This one’s been bothering me.  I’m seeing it more often so I think it might be coming up soon.  Is there anything you can do to stop it from happening?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale read the entry and pursed his lips.  He went silent for several minutes, long enough for Warlock to get uncomfortable.  Finally he looked up and his expression was answer enough.</p>
<p>Warlock sighed, “Not much of a gift.  What’s the point of having it, then?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale turned thoughtful again.  He closed the notebook and pushed it back to Warlock, looking at him again.   “Are you able to make a bit of a trip?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I guess so?  Is it far?  For how long?”</p>
<p>“Not long at all.”</p>
<p>“Okay.  Um, just let me go tell Nuriel.”</p>
<p>They found Nuriel in the vegetable garden around the back of the house.   They were washing off some carrots and tomatoes and handed a couple of small cherry tomatoes to Warlock as he explained.  Finally they nodded, “If he thinks it’ll help, yeah sure, go ahead.  Try to have him back before supper.”  They winked at Aziraphale and grinned.</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled back then took Warlock’s hand, “If you’re ready, dear boy?”   Then he reached right and snapped left.</p>
<p>The sky and farmyard fell away.  In their place was an enormous room.  To one side were shelves of stone and wood, filled with tablets, scrolls, and bound books.  To the other side, server racks hummed.  The air was cool and dry.  There were a few people working among the books and the servers, peering around the racks and shelves.</p>
<p>Warlock stared around.  It seemed endless.  He couldn’t see walls in any direction.  “Where are we?”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked up and smiled warmly, “Welcome to the Akashic Library!”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0010"><h2>10. The Vision of the Peacock Angel</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Tawuse’s face suddenly became <i>very</i> interested.  “So, you look through a demon’s glasses and you see the future.”</p><p>“Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>“Huh,” they tipped their head at Aziraphale, “What happens if you look through his?”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was an awe-inspiring sight.  “The Akashic Library?” Warlock repeated, staring around, “I’ve heard of that, I think?”</p><p>Aziraphale nodded, “The Akashic Records contain the history of everyone and everything who ever lived, all the way back to the beginning of time.”</p><p>Warlock wished he could think of something better to say than just, “Wow!”  He disappointed himself. </p><p>One of the people in the library approached, his face gilded with golden cosmetics.  Warlock was mesmerised.  “Mr. Fell?  We’ve finished scanning the mezzanine storey.”</p><p>“Oh!  Wonderful!” Aziraphale smiled, “And the Wildes?  There’s been a bit of an uptick in demand for the Wilde early editions recently.”</p><p>“Finished yesterday, sir.”</p><p>“Lovely!  That is good news,” Aziraphale smiled, “I’m just going to show young Warlock around a bit. Warlock, this is Guildenstern.  He was a soldier in my platoon.”</p><p>“Hello,” the person nodded a greeting at Warlock.  </p><p>“Hi,” Warlock nodded back.   He looked back at Aziraphale as they started walking again, “You had a platoon?”</p><p>“Oh yes.  Principality, you know.  I had two hundred angels under my command.”</p><p>Warlock frowned, “You don’t look like a soldier.”</p><p>“I didn’t want to be a soldier,” Aziraphale smiled, “I really wasn’t very good at it.  To be honest, I didn’t <i>want</i> to be very good at it.  But my platoon were listening when I broke with Heaven and refused to fight in their war and, well, apparently they all decided to follow me anyways.”</p><p>Warlock blinked, “So… they all quit, too?”</p><p>“All two hundred of them walked off the job and followed me back to the world! …It took a while to round them all up again and then I had to find work for them all.  Now, then…”  He started walking towards a row of desks, opening drawers until he found what he was looking for.  It looked like a toy top but it was much too long.  It had string attached and a cloud of fluff.  “Ah, here we are.  We also found the Library to be a useful place to store artifacts.”</p><p>“What’s that?”</p><p>“It’s a drop spindle.  This might help you understand a bit of what you’re Seeing.”</p><p>“Huh?”</p><p>“It’s about time, dear boy,” Aziraphale said.  He held up the ball of fluff, “We’ll use this wool to represent the future.  As  you know, the future is full of possibilities - so, let each fibre represents one possibility.  So, if I start the spindle spinning, setting time in motion…” He suited action to word then started playing out the fibre, “Now, see here, this is the drafting triangle.  Consider that as the present, and the spun thread as the past.  Now, watch what happens in the drafting triangle.”</p><p>“It’s kind of random, how bits get drawn in?”</p><p>“Yes.  You have a little bit of control over which fibres approach the triangle, but sometimes - whoops! Like that! - sometimes it gives you a bit of a surprise.”</p><p>Warlock nodded, “Okay, yeah.  I get it.  So… My glasses let me see which fibres are coming up to the triangle?”</p><p>“That’s one thing that’s happening, yes.”</p><p>“Whaaaaaat are you dooooooing?” sang a voice behind them.  </p><p>Aziraphale froze.  Then his nervous smile spread across his face and he turned around. “Probably not the right thing, if you’re here asking that question like that.”</p><p>Warlock turned too.  The person looked as agender as Nuriel and he found himself thinking of them as ‘they’ automatically.  They were of medium height, with medium complexion and medium length hair, wearing a hoody and jeans.  They flashed him a quick grin.  “Maybe, maybe not,” they shrugged, “I’m just curious.   Why you’d bring a human into the Library?”</p><p>“He’s the new prophet,” Aziraphale said, “This is Warlock.  Warlock, this is Tawuse Melek, my boss.”</p><p>Tawuse sniffed the air and grinned, “Ahhhh that new prophet smell…!  Hiya!” </p><p>“He’s already being troubled by his gift,” Aziraphale explained, “We know what kind of trouble previous prophets had.  I thought, perhaps if I could explain his gift and show him what it was doing, what he was Seeing, it might spare him some of that.”</p><p>Tawuse shrugged and nodded, “It’s worth a shot.  Can’t hurt more than the other way did.  …Well, I suppose it can, but anyways, hopefully it won’t.  Sure, go for it, let’s see what happens.”</p><p>Aziraphale sagged ever so slightly with relief, “Thank you.”</p><p>“I trust you, Principality,” they grinned.  Then they looked at Warlock again. </p><p>Warlock had put on his sunglasses.  “You’re… Are you an angel, too?”</p><p>Tawuse grinned, “What do you See?”</p><p>“An awful lot of wings and a really wild… halo, I guess?  It looks kind of like a peacock’s tail.”</p><p>“Tawuse Melek is a Seraph,” Aziraphale said.</p><p>“Peacock Angel,” they grinned.  Then they jerked their chin at the drop spindle, “So what have you got going on here?”</p><p>Aziraphale picked up the spindle again, “I was using this woolen yarn as a very imperfect metaphor for time, to teach young Warlock about his gift.”</p><p>“Okay, yeah, go for it.”  </p><p>Warlock nodded and took his sunglasses off again.</p><p>Aziraphale turned his attention back to Warlock, “So now, let’s re-purpose our spun yarn to represent linear time as a whole.”</p><p>Warlock nodded, “Okay.”</p><p>“Now watch-”  Aziraphale let the yarn slacken a bit and it doubled up on itself.  “Now see here and here?  This point has met this further point, essentially skipping over all the points in between.  That’s where your gift lies.”</p><p>Warlock’s eyes widened, “Ohhh okay!”  He put his sunglasses back on and looked at the yarn.  Then he looked around at the Library again. </p><p>Tawuse Melek flexed an interested eyebrow, “Are the sunglasses important?”</p><p>“They belonged to my Nanny, she gave them to me when she left,” Warlock explained.</p><p>“That was Crowley,” Aziraphale smiled, “They were Crowley’s sunglasses.”</p><p>Tawuse’s face suddenly became <i>very</i> interested.  “So, you look through a demon’s glasses and you see the future.”</p><p>“Pretty much, yeah.”</p><p>“Huh,” they tipped their head at Aziraphale, “What happens if you look through his?”</p><p>Aziraphale looked surprised, “Oh!  I can’t believe I never thought of that!”  He reached into his pocket and withdrew his own reading glasses, “Give them a try, dear boy.”</p><p>Warlock shrugged and put them on.  At first, he didn’t see anything.  Nothing looked different, he didn’t even see the wings on Aziraphale or Tawuse Melek or any of the other people.  Then he frowned, “Hang on…”</p><p>Aziraphale followed his gaze, “What do you notice?”</p><p>“There’s a book down there… It’s glowing.”</p><p>“Alright, lead on, then.”</p><p>Warlock did.  Aziraphale played out the yarn behind them until Warlock found the book.  He didn’t recognise the name of the person on the cover.  He opened it and flipped through the pages until he found, “Here.  It’s glowing here.  Really strongly.”</p><p>Aziraphale peered over his shoulder to read the passage.  “Well now, isn’t that interesting.”</p><p>“What is it?”</p><p>“Try your other glasses, tell me what you see.”</p><p>Warlock changed for his sunglasses and sucked in a breath as a vision unfolded, “Oh!”</p><p>“Yes?”</p><p>Warlock changed back for Aziraphale’s glasses and read the glowing passage again.  “What does it mean?”</p><p>“The thing about the events of time is that some of them <i>can</i> be changed but some of them <i>can’t.</i>  Some points are fixed and will happen no matter what.”  Aziraphale stared at the passage and scratched his nose, “It appears my glasses give you an ability to See certain events.  Now, are these events the fixed ones or are they events that can be changed?”</p><p>Warlock sagged, “Oh boy.”</p><p>Aziraphale took out his phone and made a few notes on it.  “Interesting.  Very, very interesting.  Yes, we shall have to monitor this one quite carefully,” he muttered.  He tapped a few more buttons on the screen, opening an app and tapping some more.  Then he smiled at Warlock and put the book back on the shelf, then followed the yarn back out to the broad area where Tawuse Melek waited.  “This is <b>very</b> interesting,” Aziraphale told them, “It appears that my spectacles allow him to see certain events, however we don’t know whether those events are fixed or mutable.”  He opened the app on his phone and showed them, “This is the event he was Seeing.  What do you think, can he try an experiment?  Can we help him, perhaps?”</p><p>Tawuse chewed their lip thoughtfully, “Hmm…  Herself might object but…. I gotta admit, I’m curious.  Yeah, let’s see which it is, let’s see what the kid is seeing.”  They looked up at Warlock, “You realize you might still not be able to change anything?”</p><p>“Then what’s the point of having the gift?” Warlock asked.</p><p>“Excellent point,” Tawuse grinned, “Previous prophets mostly wrote down their visions as a way of warning future generations.”</p><p>“Did it work?”</p><p>“Not really.  Most of them weren’t very accurate.”</p><p>“It worked for Agnes,” Aziraphale pointed out.  He smiled at Warlock, “Agnes Nutter, probably the most accurate prophet ever.  Her prophecies were about as concise as she could understand.  They still took some interpretation but they were clear enough that her descendants could see the events she predicted coming up on the horizon, far enough out to intercept them.”</p><p>Warlock thought about that.  “So… they <i>could</i> change the future?”</p><p>“Not exactly.  It was more that… Well, going back to the wool fibres, she told them when to watch out for a brown one coming up, then they would try to angle their drafting triangle to catch it, if you will.”</p><p>Warlock frowned, “I’m not sure I understand.”</p><p>Aziraphale put his phone away and picked up his spindle again.  “Like this,” he said and demonstrated.  “They would try to alter the direction of their present so that they could intercept the brown fibre.  For example, the prophecy about investing in ‘Master Jobbes’ invention’, the Apple - that turned out to be Apple Computers.  So, with the advice to invest, the family had to have money to invest, correct?  So they had to attain schooling and employment sufficient to allow them to put enough money aside to be ready to invest in the Apple Computers when the shares were put on the market.”</p><p>Warlock’s eyes widened, “Ohhhhh, okay!  But that took a lot ahead of time, though, right?”</p><p>“Exactly,” Aziraphale nodded, “That’s how it worked for Agnes and her descendants.  Will you be able to do the kind of intervention you’re thinking of for the visions you See? - I really don’t know.  Ordinarily, I’d have said no, but this new phenomenon puts quite an interesting wrinkle into the works.”</p><p>Tawuse Melek chewed their lip again, “Very good point.  Yeah, let’s see what happens.”  They cocked an eyebrow at Warlock, “What were you thinking of doing with this event?”</p><p>“I… dunno,” Warlock shook his head, “I saw a vision about this and it’s… I thought maybe if I could See it, it could be prevented somehow.  But I guess that’s not possible?  I don’t know what this means.”</p><p>“Maybe it’s turning points,” Aziraphale said.  Tawuse cocked an eyebrow at him. “Like Agnes Nutter’s descendants had to work out ahead of time what they needed to be ready to jump on certain prophecies.  Perhaps these highlighted events are those?”</p><p>“I am seriously curious about this now,” Tawuse admitted,  “Okay - try it!  Putz around with a few of these, let’s see what happens, find out what the kid is seeing when he looks through your glasses.  This could get really interesting.”</p><p>Aziraphale raised a sceptical eyebrow, “Are you not worried that we might damage the timeline?”</p><p>“If you’re worried about timeline damage, go talk to Nuriel,” said a voice behind them. </p><p>Aziraphale turned and his smile lit up a large radius around the Library, “Crowley!”  The sconces blazed momentarily. </p><p>Tawuse turned and grinned, “Black Snake!”</p><p>“Yo bitch!” Crowley grinned.  They high-fived.</p><p>“So, why Nuriel?” Aziraphale asked. </p><p>Crowley blew his lips out in a brief raspberry, “That’s what we used to do when we used to work together back in the old times.  They used to help us when we were making super-massive black holes.  You know I can stop time, well, Nuriel can rewind it a bit.”  He looked at Warlock and grinned, “You didn’t notice?”  Warlock shook his head, mystified,  “When you knocked over your milk at lunch the other day and then it was un-knocked.”</p><p>Warlock blinked.  And blinked again.  And again.  “I..thought my memory was playing tricks on me.”</p><p>“Nope!  And when you tripped coming down the stairs and didn’t fall,” Crowley grinned, “That was Nuriel.”</p><p>“Warlock is seeing highlighted events that appear to be on the way to the scenes that he Sees when he looks through your sunglasses, Crowley,” Aziraphale said, “Tawuse Melek has given us permission to experiment a bit to find out exactly what these highlighted events are.”</p><p>Crowley nodded, “Okay, yeah, then you’ll definitely want to bring Nuriel in on this.   You’ll want to have them handy when you try something so they can reset things if it goes wrong.”</p><p>“See, this is why I hired you, you’re good at this,” Tawuse snickered.</p><p>“Oh he is,” Aziraphale beamed proudly. </p><p>“Yeah, sure, tell them I said go ahead.  I’ll take the rap if Herself has anything to say about it,” Tawuse shrugged.  Then they glanced at Warlock, “Anybody else claimed you yet?”</p><p>Warlock frowned, “Claimed me?”</p><p>“Good, dibs.  Whaddya think, kid, you wanna join my team?  A lot of the prophets were mine.”</p><p>“Team?”</p><p>“Knowledge and Inspiration,” Crowley explained, “The Peacock Angel is the Angel of Illumination.”</p><p>“Let there be enlightenment,” Aziraphale smiled. </p><p>“Oh!” Warlock blinked, “Do I gotta, like, worship you and stuff?  Like church?”</p><p>Crowley and Tawuse both burst out laughing.  “Oh yeah, I can see that happening,” Crowley chortled, then intoned, “Loooooord Peacock, we pray that you clear our skin, water our crops, and <b>SCREM</b> at our enemieeeeeees.”</p><p>Tawuse nearly doubled over laughing, “’Screm’??”</p><p>“We beseech thy blessing and offer you much fruuuuuuit.”  Even Aziraphale was laughing now.  Warlock had his hands clapped over his face.  Around them, the Library staff were starting to giggle. </p><p>“Glory Hallelujah!” Warlock gasped out.  Crowley grinned viciously. </p><p>“You see what I have to put up with,” Tawuse wheezed, wiping their wet cheeks with the sleeves of their hoody. </p><p>“You knew what you were getting when you hired me,” Crowley grinned.</p><p>“You were getting appalling grammar,” Aziraphale teased, “You mixed up your tenses, Crowley.”</p><p>“Oh shut up, yeah I did, didn’t I.”</p><p>“Um,” Warlock said hesitantly, “It’s not like… I’m not gonna go to Hell for this, right?”</p><p>“HA!” Tawuse laughed sharply, “Fly Guy knows better than to piss me off like that.”</p><p>“Fly guy?”</p><p>“Beelzebub, Prince of Hell,” Crowley said, “Ze’s running the whole show down there now and honestly, doing a much better job of it.”</p><p>“What about Satan?”</p><p>Crowley made a face that could only be described as ‘squinchy’.  “….I’ll tell you later,” he said.</p><p>“I see I’ve got a lot to learn,” Warlock sighed. </p><p>“And my team’s just the right people to teach you,” Tawuse said gently.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0011"><h2>11. The Vision of the Demon's Ward</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Why did goats get associated with the devil but sheep are associated with good?”</p>
<p>“Goats are independent thinkers.”</p>
<p>“I heard that,” said Aziraphale.  Crowley grinned viciously.  Warlock tried not to spit out his mouthful. </p>
<p>“Watch sheep for a while, you’ll see,” Crowley stage-whispered.</p>
<p>“I heard that too.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>sprrrrz</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>shzzzzz</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>shrrrrrrrp</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>spzzzzzz</i>
</p>
<p>Milking goats was surprisingly soothing, Warlock found.  The sound of the milk hitting the stainless steel bucket was almost like white noise.  It helped that this goat was docile and affectionate.  This was not a place he’d ever thought he’d be, milking goats on a farm in Canada, and he was surprised at how much he liked it.</p>
<p>“How’s it any different?” he asked, “If Prince Beelzebub won’t go against the Peacock Angel person, how’s it any different from what Daddy says about Jesus?”</p>
<p>Crowley laughed viciously, “Because if you fuck up that badly, the Peacock Angel will take you to Hell <i>personally.</i>”</p>
<p>“Oh,” said Warlock, “Yeah.  I guess that works.”  His hands worked alternately, the milk sprayed into the bucket.  <span class="small">”Daddy’s going to Hell, isn’t he,”</span> he said softly.</p>
<p>Crowley was silent for several moments before finally saying, “Yeah.”  </p>
<p><i>shrrrrr</i>  <i>sprrrrz</i>  <i>shrrrr</i> went the milk.  “What about Jesus?”</p>
<p>“Oh they closed <b>that</b> loophole.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  You said he was in for a surprise.”  <i>shrrrrr</i>  <i>sprrrrrr</i>  <i>spzzzzzt</i>  “…I heard you talking about it with the others.”</p>
<p>“Warlock, what have I told you about eavesdropping?”</p>
<p>“’Don’t get caught,’” Warlock recited.  <i>spzzzzsh</i> <i>shrrrrr</i>  “But I didn’t get caught, I’m admitting to it.”</p>
<p>Crowley paused to consider that.  “Alright, fair point,” he conceded, “Yeah, they closed that loophole.  He’s not getting out of it.”  <i>sprrrrrt</i> <i>shrrrrrr</i>  “Warlock, your father’s done a lot of crimes that you don’t know about,” Crowley continued softly, “His whole life, long before you came along.  He’s left a lot of damage in his wake.”</p>
<p>“You said he was chosen to raise the Antichrist….  Was he… I dunno, groomed?”</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head, “No.  You’d think so, it’d make sense, wouldn’t it?  Someone to do something like that, raise the son of Satan, they’d send in one of the big guys.  Not even the Dukes, like Hastur or Ligur, no, they’d send in one of the Lords or even the Princes.  But they didn’t have to.  They found he’d done it all by himself.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded sadly.  He opened the gate to let the goat kids out, watching them run to their mother.  He pet her and she butted his hip gently then stepped off the milking platform to join her kids.  Warlock picked up the bucket and took it into the house to filter the milk, then bottle it and put it into the fridge.  “Now I see why the Hobbits needed Second Breakfast,” he commented as he picked up his bowl from the sink and went to get some more porridge. </p>
<p>“Taking it out of you?” Crowley grinned. </p>
<p>“Nah not really.  I’m picking it up pretty quickly, I think.  Annabelle likes me, I’m pretty sure that helps.”</p>
<p>“Always liked goats,” Crowley commented, “Always down for some mischief, goats.  Lots of fun.”</p>
<p>Warlock poured milk over his porridge, feeling a small surge of pride - he’d milked this milk yesterday evening.  “Why did goats get associated with the devil but sheep are associated with good?”</p>
<p>“Goats are independent thinkers.”</p>
<p>“I heard that,” said Aziraphale.  Crowley grinned viciously.  Warlock tried not to spit out his mouthful. </p>
<p>“Watch sheep for a while, you’ll see,” Crowley stage-whispered.</p>
<p>“I heard that too.”</p>
<p>Crowley snickered and looked at Warlock again, “What’ve you got planned for the day?”</p>
<p>“School, mostly,” Warlock said.</p>
<p>“You doing alright with the online?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Actually I think I like it better.  I’m not quite as distracted.”</p>
<p>“Still having trouble focusing?”</p>
<p>“Yeah but it’s more that my friends are morons,” Warlock finished scornfully.  He looked over through the hall door to where Aziraphale and Nuriel had their heads together over Aziraphale’s phone.  “What are they doing?”</p>
<p>“Oh they’re going to go ham on that camp you were in,” Crowley purred, “You’ve heard of divine wrath?  That camp’s going to experience it.”</p>
<p>Something about Crowley’s grin made Warlock shiver.  “I thought angels were supposed to be good and kind and stuff?”</p>
<p>“Oh they are,” Crowley said, “But if you thought that’s <b>all</b> they were then you weren’t paying attention in all those Bible study classes your father made you take.  Read it again.  They’re also ruthless bastards.”</p>
<p>Remembering how Aziraphale’s teaspoon had inexplicably burst into flames, Warlock glanced back at him again, then back at Crowley, “Even him?”</p>
<p>“Oh he tries,” Crowley conceded, “But when push comes to shove, he’s as ruthless as any of them, not one single ruth to be found.  And worst of all, he’s <i>nice.</i>”  And he snarled the word like it was the worst profanity imaginable.</p>
<p>Warlock suppressed another shiver.  “What are they going to do?”</p>
<p>“Collect enough for an airtight prosecution, mostly.  Then they’ll appear to the other campers to tell them they’re fine the way they are.”</p>
<p>Warlock frowned, “But most of the other kids there, and some of the adults too, they’re there because they want to be.  They want to be cured.”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded, “Which is why just walking in and telling them doesn’t work.  But most of them are evangelical Christians.  Muriel and Nuriel get a little more assertive than that.”</p>
<p>“What do you mean?”</p>
<p>“Well, I did say ‘appear’… They go in in their true forms and do the whole ‘BE NOT AFRAID, THE LORD IS WITH THEE’ thing.”</p>
<p>Warlock blinked.  “Okay, that… Does that work?  ‘Be not afraid’?”</p>
<p>“Heaven no, they just get even more terrified after that,” Crowley chuckled, “It’s brilliant, the way they do it.  The humans are convinced they dreamed the whole thing but the message sinks in.  They really are as God made them to be.”</p>
<p>“That’s kind of reassuring.  If terrifying.”</p>
<p>Crowley shrugged, “Angels are bastards.”  Warlock finished his porridge and sipped his tea, looking thoughtful.  “Nuriel got word this morning that the judge has made a decision,” Crowley said softly, “We’re to appear at the courthouse this afternoon.”</p>
<p>Warlock swallowed his tea hard.  “Do you think they’ll…?”</p>
<p>“If they don’t, they’ll change their minds,” Crowley said meaningfully, “I’m not letting you go back to your father unless that’s what <b>you</b> want.”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “No.  I want to stay.  Even if-”  He swallowed.  Crowley tipped his head at him, one black eyebrow arching over his sunglasses.  Warlock let his breath out.  “…Even if Nanny wasn’t real, you are.”</p>
<p>“Always was, Hellspawn,” Crowley’s voice was gentle, “Just more to me than I showed, back then.”</p>
<p>“The name, the accent…”</p>
<p>“All mine.  Spent lots of time in Scotland at various times, on various assignments.  Picked up the accent.  Lots of them, lived lots of places, speak lots of languages, got lots of accents. As for Ashtoreth, that was my name, a long, long time ago.  All me, Hellspawn.”</p>
<p>“And Brother Francis?”</p>
<p>“You’ve heard of Francis of Assisi?  Very close friend of Aziraphale, he was.  Yes, he looked like that.  Yes, he was very real.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded again, feeling better.  “I still want to stay with you, if you want me to stay.  And I’ll stay here for as long as you think I need to.”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded then tipped his head.  “I won’t lie, it’s going to be tough,” he said, “Your parents were raising you to be a child.  Muriel and Nuriel are raising adults.  Everyone who leaves here is able to care for themselves, do their own laundry, cooking, manage their money, basic taxes, housekeeping - everyone, there’s no gender roles here.  And there’s no escaping it, there’s no pulling an attitude and trying to weasel your way out of it like a certain Hellspawn whenever he was told to tidy his room.”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned widely, “I forgot?”</p>
<p>That earned him a dip of the sunglasses and a yellow stare he never got from Nanny, “Pull the other one, kiddo.  I taught you too well for that.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, I know,” Warlock chuckled, “I’ll behave.”</p>
<p>“Your parents are expecting you to fail.  They’re expecting you to come back with your tail between your legs, then they’ll take care of everything, pay all your bills, but at what cost?”</p>
<p>Warlock shivered and shook his head, “Not one I’m willing to pay.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>Warlock lay on his bed, watching the early evening sun streaming into his room.  The bedroom door creaked and he looked over to see Avery peeking around it.  “Hey.  ‘S up?”</p>
<p>“Heard you’re sticking around!”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock smiled, “The judge said yes.  I’m officially Crowley’s responsibility now.”</p>
<p>“Yayyyy!” Avery cheered, “Can I hug?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.”  Warlock got up and Avery came over to sit on the bed beside him and hugged him tight.  “Are you wearing make-up?”</p>
<p>“Yeah!  I got some new highlighters and some new lip glosses.  You wanna try ‘em out with me?”</p>
<p>Warlock blushed, “Oh um… um…”  His guts churned, desires warring with his upbringing. “Yeah, I’ve… always kinda wanted to try it but my parents…”  He trailed off, staring into memory. </p>
<p>“…And where are you?”</p>
<p>Warlock blinked, abruptly re-focusing.  “…Bedroom.  Farm.  Ontario.”</p>
<p>“And where’s your mind?”</p>
<p>He breathed out heavily, “The time Mummy caught me playing with her make-up.  Daddy threw a fit.  …actually that’s a gross understatement.”</p>
<p>“I’m sorry.  I should have realised it might throw you back to something.”</p>
<p>Warlock snorted, “What are you, a mind reader?  It’s okay, you couldn’t know.”  He hugged Avery again.  Then he took a breath and nodded, “Yeah, let’s… let’s go try on your make-up.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0012"><h2>12. The Vision of the Star</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Um, I know this is gonna sound weird but… in there,” Warlock jerked his chin towards the store, which was now glowing intensely gold, “There’s something for you in there.”</p>
<p>The young man followed his gaze, puzzled, “What is it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.  But it’s something important.  For you.”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>shprrrrrr</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shpppppprt</i>
  <br/>
  <i>sheeeeeeee</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shprrrrrrrt</i>
</p>
<p>Goats.  It hadn’t taken Warlock long to get used to milking goats.  Nor had it taken him long to like it.  It was mindful, soothing.  Whenever he was feeling something deep, he found himself coming out to milk a goat or gather some eggs and he found himself with space for his feelings.  </p>
<p>He was feeling rather a lot of them right now.</p>
<p>
  <i>”They were chosen to raise <b>the Antichrist</b>, Nuriel, of course they aren’t good parents!   They aren’t good <b>people!</b>  They were <b>supposed</b> to raise him to be steeped in every sin there is and to feel neglected and unwanted and entitled enough to embrace <b>Satan</b> as his father and destroy the world!”</i>
</p>
<p>And they’d left him with people like that.   They’d left him with people they <b>knew</b> were shite parents. </p>
<p>
  <i>shprrrrrrt</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shppppppp</i>
</p>
<p><i>What could they have done?</i> he asked himself, <i>Mummy and Daddy sacked them when we went back to the States.  They couldn’t come with us, they couldn’t just follow.  I was eleven anyways, they would have been sacked soon anyways.</i></p>
<p>
  <i>shprrrrrrr</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shnnnnnnng</i>
  <br/>
  <i>sheeeeeeee</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They couldn’t just keep me.  That’d be kidnapping.   Brother Fr- Aziraphale said they always try to work within humans laws.  They couldn’t just kidnap me.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>shrrrrrrrr</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shiiiiiiiiiing</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>I wouldn’t have understood then, anyways.  Everyone’s parents are crap when you’re eleven.  If they’d told me they were going to do… Yeah, I wouldn’t have understood.  I wouldn’t have believed them.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>shprrrrrr</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shnnnnnnn</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shrrrrrrr</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They <b>had</b> to leave me with my parents.  And…they didn’t <b>know</b> what was going to happen.  They knew I’d turn out like crap, though, like Daddy…</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>shnnnnnng</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shrrrrrrr</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shhhhhhpt</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>…but I didn’t.</i>
</p>
<p>He sat up, staring at the goat’s withers but seeing the past.</p>
<p>
  <i>…….No.  I didn’t.  I knew what crap was, though.  I recognised it when I saw it.  I knew that was what Nanny and Brother Francis had been talking about, I recognised it when I saw it.   Daddy <b>hated</b> that.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>sprrrrrrt</i>
  <br/>
  <i>shnnnnnng</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>They couldn’t keep me, they had to let me go.  And they just had to trust that they’d given me enough to protect me from turning into another Daddy.  And they did.</i>
</p>
<p>He sighed deeply then ruffled Annabelle’s ears and kissed her forehead. This was good.  Milking goats was good.  “Thank you, Annabelle,” he whispered.  She snuffled him and bleated in response.  He opened the pen to let her rejoin her kids.  He might feel different when he had to milk them in the rain or in the winter but right now, he just felt… thankful.</p>
<p>A shadow fell across the barn door as he covered the milk bucket.  “Hey there,” Muriel said.</p>
<p>Warlock smiled back, “Morning.”</p>
<p>“Crowley and Aziraphale will be going back to work soon,” the angel informed him.  Warlock nodded - he’d been expecting this.  “We’re thinking about taking them to that cafe that does their own back bacon.  Do you want to come?”</p>
<p>“Heck yeah!”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled, “How are you doing with that?”</p>
<p>Warlock set the pail down and looked at her earnestly.  “Thanks for letting them stay like this.  I know it put you guys out but… Thank you.”</p>
<p>Muriel shook her head, “It’s not.  They’re good influences for the kids, you saw that, right?  Besides we love having them come and visit.  Crowley’s our coordinator, for one, so he likes to see what we do so he can understand how to help us when we need something.  And Aziraphale - well, he’s the reason we’re doing this!”</p>
<p>“Really?” Warlock picked up the bucket again and started walking back towards the house.</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, “He was our teacher over five thousand years ago but we only had him for one class!  When we got the idea to do this, we thought, we only had him for one semester yet he had such a big impact on us, we’ve remembered him and his lessons ever since.  And we thought, what if we could have that kind of lasting impact on humans?  Then we learned how many humans were abandoned or cast out or stuck unadopted, in need of love, and we have plenty of love to give.  And here we are!”</p>
<p>Warlock lowered his voice, “Do they… do they <i>know</i>?”</p>
<p>“We don’t age,” Muriel said just as quietly, “They have siblings who are in their nineties and every now and then, one of them comes home to die.  Yes, they know what we are.”</p>
<p>“Do they know about me?”</p>
<p>“No.  Sharing that is up to you.”</p>
<p>Warlock breathed a sigh of relief and nodded.  He started filtering and bottling the milk to put it into the fridge.  “Daddy never came back when I needed him,” he whispered, “Neither did Mummy.”  Muriel watched him.  “But <i>they</i> did.”</p>
<p>“The second I said it was you,” Muriel said just as softly.  She lay her hand on his shoulder, “Crowley took a little longer because, well, he was with Ditr and Ditr wanted him to have a little more preparation.  I think it was the right decision.”</p>
<p>Ditr was the psychologist of the angels and demons, Warlock remembered.  She worked on the development side, helping humans to develop their techniques.  She collaborated with Muriel and Nuriel quite a lot, sharing all the latest developments and learning from their experiences with children and youths.  Warlock hadn’t met her yet.  He nodded.   “I’m just… so grateful… for all of you,” he felt his eyes starting to sting.  He felt Muriel’s arms enfold him and he hugged her, inhaling the smells of vanilla and earth and green growing things that always seemed to envelope her. </p>
<p>“And you’re welcome to stay as long as you need to,” she said gently.</p>
<p>“Thank you,” he whispered.  He hugged for a few more moments then pulled back and asked, “How do you get to be a farmer?  Like, is there a school you have to go to or do you just do it?”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled broadly, “Are you interested?  Jacob is, he wants to go into commercial farming.”</p>
<p>“What about just goats and stuff?”</p>
<p>“There are classes for running a small hobby farm, sure,” Muriel nodded, “We often mentor new farmers.  There’s more to learn than just animal husbandry or growing grain or vegetables.  You need to learn how to budget your farm and how to price your products and get certifications if you intend to sell anything.  You like the goats, eh?”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock nodded, “They seem to help when I’m thinking big thoughts.  Like they’re grounding me, I guess.”</p>
<p>Muriel smiled, “I’m glad.  Yeah, we can help you learn about running a little farm.”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned.  “My parents wanted me to become a politician.  They were all set up for me to go to universities and stuff.”</p>
<p>“And what do <b>you</b> want to do?”</p>
<p>“I’m not sure,” Warlock sighed, “I think I want to help people.  And milk goats.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>If there was a stereotype of a 70s style greasy spoon diner, this was it.  The tables were avocado green.  The tile floor was harvest gold.   Warlock looked around while Aziraphale studied the menu, making a little comment about moustaches that made Crowley glare at him glaringly.  Warlock didn’t think you <i>could</i> glare glaringly but Crowley always had managed to pull off the unexpected.</p>
<p>In the butcher window, great slabs of peameal back bacon were displayed in half-inch slices.  Aziraphale kept glancing at them with anticipation.   He’d ordered a club sandwich.  Warlock had ordered a bacon burger and now feared he’d made a mistake.  He had.  When his order arrived, not only was the bacon a slab and not the thin slice he’d expected, but the burger patty turned out to be much thicker than he’d anticipated as well.  Warlock stared at the nearly two and a half inches of meat sitting in a bun, beneath a demure decoration of lettuce and tomato, and wondered how he would get his mouth around all that.</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s club sandwich was even worse, a tower of thickly sliced back bacon, turkey, tomato, and toast.</p>
<p>“I can’t believe you actually let him <b>play</b> that!” Muriel was laughing almost hysterically.</p>
<p>“It was rated G!” Crowley defended.</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged and grinned, “I mean, alright, it had a serial killer in the school but so does half of what’s on the telly!”</p>
<p>“I…thought it might be appropriate for a young Antichrist,” Crowley dodged, </p>
<p>“And neither of us knew about the ‘Bad Boys Love’ route,” Warlock admitted.</p>
<p>Crowley nodded, “Even by my standards, that was a mistake.”</p>
<p>“I made the mistake of choosing ‘the mad love of a fallen angel,’” Aziraphale added.  Nuriel choked on their drink.</p>
<p>Crowley stared at him, “When did <b>you</b> play <i>Hatoful Boyfriend</i>?”</p>
<p>“You had to report in, the Dowlings had a last-minute engagement, somebody had to watch Warlock,” Aziraphale shrugged.</p>
<p>Warlock listened to their banter, eventually deciding to follow Aziraphale’s lead and take a knife and fork to his burger rather than trying to stuff it all into his mouth and risk ejecting the whole works out the other side of the bun.  He was halfway through when he reflexively checked his glasses and blinked.   Then he changed to Aziraphale’s glasses and stared.  “The store across the street,” he said in a low voice, “It’s glowing gold.”</p>
<p>Crowley arched an eyebrow over his sunglasses, “Nuriel?”  Nuriel nodded.</p>
<p>Abruptly Warlock shoved back his chair and ran out of the diner.  He looked up and down the street, searching for the glimpse of gold he had Seen.  <i>There!</i>  He strode purposefully up the street, “Um, excuse me?”</p>
<p>The young man he’d approached stared at him warily, “Yeah?”</p>
<p>“Um, I know this is gonna sound weird but… in there,” Warlock jerked his chin towards the store, which was now glowing intensely gold, “There’s something for you in there.”</p>
<p>The young man followed his gaze, puzzled, “What is it?”</p>
<p>“I don’t know.  But it’s something important.  For you.”</p>
<p>The young man looked again.  “I don’t play.”</p>
<p>“Maybe you will?” Warlock offered, “I don’t know, I… I don’t know.  I just know that…”  <i>That you’re glowing gold and so is that store and I Saw your future and it’s gonna be awesome.</i>  “I just know that there’s something in there for you.  Something important.”</p>
<p>“Are you some kind of psychic or something?”</p>
<p>“I… I don’t know.  Something.   Maybe?  I’m probably not doing this right.”</p>
<p>The young man looked again then shrugged, “Might as well.  Not like I got anything else to do, eh?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded with a relieved grin, “Might as well.  It’s just a music store.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  Okay.  Thanks?”</p>
<p>“Thanks, man!  Have a good one!”  Warlock watched as the young man crossed the street and, after a moment’s hesitation, went into the instruments store.  Then he went back into the diner, back to the table, and moved his chair so he could keep watching the store. </p>
<p>“What’s up?” Crowley asked quietly.</p>
<p>“I Saw him about a year ago,” Warlock replied, “Only he was older and a super rock star sort of thing.  He played a really cool instrument, like a little guitar, bigger than a ukelele though, and it made a really high tinkly sound.”</p>
<p>“Maybe a mandolin?” Aziraphale suggested.  Crowley started searching for videos on his phone. </p>
<p>“But just now he said he doesn’t play anything.  But with your glasses, he was glowing and the store was glowing, and they were both glowing <i>really strongly</i> the closer he got, and he still hasn’t come out yet.”</p>
<p>“So he might find his instrument there?”</p>
<p>“Maybe.  Maybe, yeah.  Yeah.  Maybe he buys it or takes lessons or something, or he starts something else and finds it later, I dunno.  But… it feels like that’s the start of it.”</p>
<p>“Eat your food, I’ll keep an eye on the store,” Nuriel said gently.  Warlock nodded and started eating again. </p>
<p>When they left the diner, the young man still hadn’t left the store.  They walked past it on the way back to Nuriel’s car, and Warlock could hear the faint high tinkly sound of a mandolin. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“So?  How’s the vision?” said Crowley, once they were back in the farmhouse kitchen.  Nuriel excused themself to go take a phone call in the family room.</p>
<p>Warlock took off his sunglasses with a sigh and nodded, “It’s a lot stronger now.  Not as…  fuzzy, I guess?  It feels firmer?  I don’t know if that makes any sense.”</p>
<p>“But the person you’re Seeing is much older?” Aziraphale said thoughtfully, “Turning points, then.”</p>
<p>“Maybe, yeah.  I guess so?”  Warlock sighed, “All I know is he’s gonna be a <i>mega</i> rock star some day.”</p>
<p>“Someone to watch for, then,” Aziraphale smiled. </p>
<p>Warlock nodded then wilted, “I didn’t get his name, though!”</p>
<p>“Oh I’m sure you’ll know him when the time comes.”</p>
<p>Abruptly Nuriel came rushing out of the family room.  “<b>MURIEL!</b>” The windows shook from the force of their angelic voice, making Crowley and Warlock wince and bringing Muriel running.  “Muriel, they’re ready!  They’re moving in!  We need to <b>go!</b>”</p>
<p>Muriel nodded, “I’ll get Faith and Hope, you get Charity.”  She disappeared up the stairs and Nuriel went to the back pantry. </p>
<p>Aziraphale looked at Crowley, who nodded. </p>
<p>Nuriel returned carrying a long spear tipped with what appeared to be crystal.  It was wickedly sharp and it gleamed.  Muriel came back with a shield on her arm and a whip in her hand. </p>
<p>Warlock looked puzzled.  “You’ve heard of using faith as a shield?” Crowley smirked and nodded towards Muriel’s shield, “Literally that.  Faith the shield, Hope the whip, and Charity the lance.   You’ve heard of killing someone with kindness? - Kindness was a sword.  Forgiveness was an axe.”  He grinned maliciously, “The fact that Heaven gives their angelic weapons names like that should tell you a lot about Heaven.”</p>
<p>“Heaven doesn’t sound like a very nice place,” Warlock said slowly.</p>
<p>“Yes, well… There’s a reason why we walked off and the Professor here went rogue,” Muriel said wryly.  She turned to Nuriel, “What about the kids?”</p>
<p>Nuriel paused.  “Right, we don’t have Marcie to pitch-hit anymore.”</p>
<p>“Avery can handle the wellness aspects.”</p>
<p>“I can recommend a nanny!” Warlock piped up.</p>
<p>“Oi!”</p>
<p>Nuriel looked at Crowley, “I hate to impose…”</p>
<p>“I’m your Coordinator - you tell me what you need to get your job done, I figure out how to make it happen,” Crowley replied, “And right now, I understand you need a nanny.”</p>
<p>“You don’t mind looking them until we get back?  They love you.”</p>
<p>“I don’t mind at all as long as I’m not raising the Antichrist this time,” Crowley flashed a grin at Warlock, who grinned back. </p>
<p>“Alright,” they nodded then looked at Warlock, “Prophet?  What are we looking for, anything?”</p>
<p>Warlock stammered for a moment then realized what Nuriel was asking for.  He put his sunglasses on again.   Then he gasped, “My notebook!  I need my…”  Aziraphale found the book and pushed it over to him with a pencil.  Warlock took both and started sketching.   The vision stayed strongly enough that he could trace the pencil over the lines of what he was Seeing.  Aziraphale peered over his shoulder, watching with great interest.  Warlock whipped off the sunglasses and replaced them with Aziraphale’s glasses and nodded.   He showed the resulting sketch to Nuriel and Aziraphale, “This person.  They’re in trouble.”</p>
<p>Nuriel took out their phone and snapped a picture.  “Gold?”</p>
<p>“Really gold!”</p>
<p>Nuriel nodded again then looked at him seriously, “If we have to bring someone back from there…We’re going in hot, so if we do have to bring somebody back, they’re going to be pretty messed up and frightened.  Are you going to be able to handle it?”</p>
<p>“Even if I can’t, if it means somebody else doesn’t have to go back to that shit?” Warlock said fiercely, “I’ll manage!”</p>
<p>“Alright, then.”  Nuriel shouldered Charity and looked at Muriel, “Ready, sis?”</p>
<p>“Ready, sib!”</p>
<p>“Give ‘em Heaven, Angel,” Crowley told Aziraphale softly.</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled a smile that looked angelic but somehow wasn’t quite.  “I’ll be nice as pie, my dear.”  He snapped left and, with a crack of thunder, the angels were gone.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0013"><h2>13. The Vision of Family</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Jacob shook his head, “I’m sorry Tant Crow and Mr. Fell left you with people like that.”</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, “They’re my parents.  What were they gonna do, kidnap me?  They just had to hope that they’d given me enough not to grow up like Daddy.  I’m grateful for you because like I said, I need to know that stuff.  I mean, I knew enough to know it was wrong but not enough to know why, you know?”  Jacob nodded.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Mind the updated tags, content warning updated.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Alright, ready?”</p>
<p>They placed their feet and wiggled around until they were properly behind the line.</p>
<p>“Set!”</p>
<p>They raised their bums, muscles tensing.</p>
<p>“Go!”</p>
<p>And they were off!  Warlock quickly fumbled, trying to remember how to run while bent in half like this.  His hands skated a wet cloth across the floor, pushed along by his feet.  He was quickly losing ground to Jacob and they hadn’t even finished the first lap yet!  They reached the far side of the floor and spun around, making <i>’Gnnnnaaaaaooooow’</i> sounds because why not?  Then they sped back. </p>
<p>They got three quarters of the way finished the floor when one of them turned the wrong way and their heads collided with an audible,  almost visible <b><i>bonk!</i></b>  </p>
<p>Crowley doubled over laughing.  “Cut!  I think that’s a forfeit.  Are you boys alright?”</p>
<p>Warlock was clutching his scalp and laughing hard enough to hurt his cheeks.  “Nothing hurt but my pride,” he gasped.  Jacob was laughing too hard to speak so he just nodded. </p>
<p>Crowley wiped his eyes under his sunglasses, “Alright then, give yourselves a minute then finish the floor and we’ll check on Avery and the others, alright?”  The two boys just nodded, still laughing. </p>
<p>“Ow.”</p>
<p>“It sounded like coconuts,” Jacob wheezed.  Warlock doubled over again. Finally they got a hold of themselves and got up to finish the floor.  </p>
<p>Japanese floor mopping races were a very pleasant memory of England.  He used to race with his friends, with Nanny calling the time.  Until Daddy had caught him mopping his own hallway once.   Warlock took a deep breath, forcing the memory into the past.  <i>Daddy’s not here.  Daddy doesn’t control me now.</i></p>
<p>“Y’okay?” Jacob asked softly.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.  Mop racing is fun.”  He straightened up and rubbed his back then threw the rag into the laundry basket in the pantry.</p>
<p>They found Crowley in the living room.  Avery had finished the hoovering and North and Jasmine had finished picking things up and sorting the recycling from the things to be put away, under Avery’s guidance.  Crowley had his notepad out and was tallying up the points.  “Okay, so Warlock and Jacob get five points each since they bonked each other out of the race.”  The two boys broke into giggles again.  “So that means the winner is… North!”  North threw her hands in the air with a shriek and ran about in a circle before plunking down onto the floor again.  “North, that means you get to pick the story,  What would you like?”</p>
<p>“I want a story about animals!” North signed. </p>
<p>“A story about animals!” Crowley signed back.  He tapped his fingertips together with exaggerated thoughtfulness then cracked his knuckles.  “Alright, I’ve got one.  This happened a lonnnnng time ago,” he signed, circling his spread palms alternately back over his shoulder.</p>
<p>Warlock sat down on the floor to watch.   He loved storytime with Nanny when he was a kid.  She always got right into it, always doing the voices and gesturing enthusiastically.  Looking back, he could see now that those were times when the real Crowley showed through the character of Nanny.  That made them even more special. </p>
<p> His American Sign Language was still very beginner though he was able to have basic conversations with Jazz and North.  But Crowley was a skilled and expressive signer, and so used to using his hands to build the visual world that Warlock was able to understand much of the story of a snake on the Ark who noticed a leak.  He watched in fascination as Crowley used classifiers to show how the snake coiled up its body to plug the leak, and saved the Ark from sinking and drowning everything on board.  Jazz and North applauded and Warlock frowned and shot Crowley a suspicious look. </p>
<p>“Okay,” Crowley signed to them, “Brush your teeth and into your pyjamas then we’ll have bedtime tea, alright?”  There was some good-natured whining from the little ones but everyone got up to do their bedtime routines and Crowley went to start the kettle. </p>
<p>“Tant Crow, can we play Am I The Asshole?” Avery asked one-handed as ze brushed zir teeth.</p>
<p>Crowley paused, one eyebrow lifting above his sunglasses.  “Does your mother know you know that sign?”</p>
<p>“Yes.”  Behind Avery, Jazz looked impishly guilty as only a child can, making it plain who had taught it to zir. </p>
<p>“Hmmm, alright, but I may be checking,” Crowley warned.   The giggles were sheepish but unthreatened so he gave them another arching Look and went to make the tea.   The kids all piled up the creaky staircase to the big room upstairs and clustered around the small woodstove under the hanging lamp.  </p>
<p> Crowley followed with the steel teapot.  He poured out the herbal tea that the kids liked to drink before bed, then set the teapot on the stove and plunked down onto the floor to join their circle.   “Alright, who’s got one?” he signed.</p>
<p>Avery took out zir phone, “Me!  ‘AITA for getting angry that my girlfriend is wasting my power words on her friends?’”</p>
<p>Jacob curled his lip, “’Power words’, what are ‘power words?’”</p>
<p>“That’s what I was just wondering,” Crowley agreed, “Alright, let’s have it.”</p>
<p>Warlock watched as Avery read off the complaint.  Playing ‘Am I The Asshole’ was a customary game in the angels’ household though ‘playing’ was something of a misnomer.  They read off entertaining or intriguing complaints from the internet, then discussed them, often in detail.  The angels would compare the complaints against the characteristics of toxic relationships and the discussions were very instructive.  Warlock was learning quite a lot about abusive and manipulative relationships and how to spot the less obvious red flags.  It disturbed him just how many situations he saw reflected in his own parents.  And in his friends.  And in himself. </p>
<p>That was an uncomfortable realisation.  But he was grateful.  He really hadn’t liked some of the people he was expected to be friends with and he hadn’t liked who he was when he was around them.   He’d had a long conversation with Nuriel about it, after one such story. </p>
<p>He was used to the angels’ perspectives on the stories.  Crowley’s perspectives were very different, being a demon, yet no less insightful.  Warlock watched the discussion, mostly getting the gist of it despite the more advanced signing.  The perspectives of Jazz and North were very interesting, despite - or perhaps because of - their youth, but informed by their experiences at such young ages that made Warlock’s heart wince.</p>
<p>The story from an influencer mother made Warlock inch closer to Crowley, who rubbed his knee and put his arm around his shoulders.  “Mom, that you?” Warlock signed in his basic ASL. </p>
<p>Crowley smiled sadly, “Yeah, your mother was a real treat, that one.”</p>
<p>“My mother was like that,” Warlock signed with a sigh. </p>
<p>“Wow,” Avery blinked, “Like, she’d dump your stuff like that and everything?”  Warlock nodded.  “Wow, dude, I’m so sorry!  I’m glad you’re here!”</p>
<p>“I’m glad I had Nanny,” Warlock leaned his head against Crowley’s shoulder, “She helped me understand this stuff.”</p>
<p>“Here’s a good one,” Jacob signed, “’AITA for changing my shirt at my parents’ pool party?’”  He read off the complaint to the chorus of dropped jaws and muttered oaths.  Warlock looked distinctly uncomfortable. </p>
<p>Crowley noticed.  “Please tell me that wasn’t your father’s party.”</p>
<p>Warlock fidgeted.  “If not, Daddy’s parties were the same,” he signed, “They’d stare at girls like that and I’ve given girls my t-shirts if they were feeling weird.  Which happened a lot.”</p>
<p>“Yyyyyyu-p,” Crowley said with voice, popping the P, at the same time as he signed an emphatic OH-I-SEE.  He gave Warlock a sad smile. </p>
<p>“Whenever I took a girl out to give her something else to wear, Daddy would always corner me after and ask if she was drunk enough to score,” Warlock said sourly.  Something in his gut started to twist.</p>
<p>“<i>What?!</i>” Jacob screeched and signed. </p>
<p>Warlock flinched and nodded.  “Daddy and his friends were always telling us how to score on girls, how to get them drunk and stuff.”  He used his voice and glanced at North and Jazz, not sure if he should be talking about this in front of the youngest children, but he wasn’t surprised when Avery started interpreting his words.  “I just… I felt really <i>off</i> about it… really skeevy… It didn’t seem right…”  He felt really sick now, under Jacob’s aghast gaze.  “Then they sent me to that place ‘cause they thought it meant I’m gay…” </p>
<p>“Wait wait wait wait wait,” Jacob burst out, “Are you saying your parents didn’t send you there because you were gay but because you weren’t <i>raping girls?!</i>”  Warlock’s breath hitched into sharp gasps.</p>
<p>“Here it comes,” Crowley murmured.  He turned and put his hands on Warlock’s shoulders.  “Your father’s been doing things like this since he was a teenager himself, Hellspawn,” he said softly, “He’s left an awful lot of ruined lives in his wake and it’s only the tip of the iceberg of reasons why he was chosen.”</p>
<p>“I… I <i>knew</i> it wasn’t… I knew it was wrong…  But I didn’t… I didn’t <i>realize</i> it was…”</p>
<p>Crowley nodded, “It was normalised to you.  It was swept under the carpet.  But you recognised it despite him.”</p>
<p>“I’m not like him!” Warlock said fiercely, “I’m not!  I won’t!”  He fell against Crowley’s chest and tried to control his sobs.</p>
<p>“I know, Hellspawn,” Crowley whispered into his hair, “And I’m glad.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>The clock read 4:00 a.m.  Warlock heard the floor creak outside his room and decided to give up on trying to get back to sleep.  He sighed and reached for his jeans and his woolen socks, pulling his door open as he reached for his flannel shirt.  </p>
<p>“War?  Y’okay?” Jacob whispered.</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Warlock whispered back, “I can’t sleep.  Figured I might as well go help you with the chores.”  He pulled his hoody on over his wool jumper and they crept downstairs. </p>
<p>Downstairs was dark.  The summer kitchen was dimly lit by a single electric candle.  Crowley sat at the table with a cup of tea and a newspaper.  He looked up immediately, black eyebrows rising over the sunglasses that he still wore, even in this near-darkness.  Warlock felt a pang of warmth at the comforting, familiar sight.</p>
<p>“War can’t sleep so we’re going out to do the chores,” Jacob explained as he handed Warlock an egg basket and picked up a clean milk bucket, “Are Mom and Cenn back yet?”</p>
<p>Crowley shook his head, “Not yet.  Do you boys want breakfast when you come back? Eggs or pancakes or porridge or what would you like?”</p>
<p>“Porridge, please?”  And Warlock nodded agreement.  It surprised him how much he’d come to appreciate a hot bowl of porridge after doing his chores on a cold morning.  He pulled on his heavy jacket and boots, grabbed his lantern, and followed Jacob out.</p>
<p>Outside, the early morning air was crisp and cold and smelled heavily of the rain that was threatening.   Only a few stars were visible through a curtain of clouds.  The tall electric lamp out by the driveway threw a modest circle of light that just barely reached the house and didn’t reach the barns.   The only sounds were the crickets and the occasional bleat of a goat or sheep.  Warlock paused for a moment to inhale the smells of grass and goats and chickens and dense, moist air.  He felt like he was living in a fairy story.</p>
<p>“I’m sorry,” Jacob whispered, “I should have thought before I said anything.”</p>
<p>It took Warlock a moment to figure out what Jacob meant.  “Oh.  Nah, it’s fine.  You didn’t do anything wrong.  It sucks but it’s stuff I need to know.  I don’t <i>want</i> to be like Daddy.”</p>
<p>Jacob shook his head, “I’m sorry Tant Crow and Mr. Fell left you with people like that.”</p>
<p>Warlock shrugged, “They’re my parents.  What were they gonna do, kidnap me?  They just had to hope that they’d given me enough not to grow up like Daddy.  I’m grateful for you because like I said, I need to know that stuff.  I mean, I knew enough to know it was wrong but not enough to know why, you know?”  Jacob nodded.  They listened to the crickets for a few moments.  “Um…”  Jacob looked at him.  “How did you start calling Nuriel Cenn?  I mean, how did you start?”</p>
<p>Jacob nodded.  “When the adoption was finalised, I asked if that meant I could start calling them Mom and Cenn now and they said yes.”</p>
<p>Warlock scraped his fingers through his hair.  “They’ve been more my mum and dad than my parents ever were,” he sighed, “Nanny and… Aziraphale, I mean.  Mr. Fell.”</p>
<p>Jacob looked at him again.  “He loves you a lot,” he said, “I’ll do goats, you do eggs?”</p>
<p>“You’re on.”</p>
<p>Warlock had just finished cleaning and refreshing a chicken bed when a crack of thunder startled him.  He poked his head out of the chicken house, expecting to see clouds and the twilight glow of dawn.  Instead he saw wings.</p>
<p>The three angels stood in the yard in front of the house, illuminating it with a golden glow from their outstretched wings.  The glow faded as they folded their wings back into the ether.  Aziraphale carried an unconscious youth.</p>
<p>“Mom!  Cenn!”  Jacob threw the cover over the milk bucket and ran out into the yard.  Warlock picked up his egg basket and followed. </p>
<p>“Hi sweeties!” Nuriel hugged and kissed them both.</p>
<p>The summer kitchen door opened and Crowley came out.  “You should have seen him!” Muriel whispered to him as she took Nuriel’s lance, “He hauled off and smote a guy!”</p>
<p>“He <i>what?</i>” Crowley gaped. </p>
<p>Aziraphale looked embarrassed, “Yes well… he was being very rude.”</p>
<p>“Did you smite him mightily?” Crowley purred in a tone that made Warlock wonder if he was old enough to be hearing this conversation.</p>
<p>“Oh yeah,” Nuriel drawled, grinning, then clapped Jacob’s shoulder, “Thanks for the welcome-home, we needed it.  Go ahead and finish what you were doing, we need to get Marion in and settled.</p>
<p>“Just tell me where you want her, my dear.”</p>
<p>“Upstairs, in the room across from Warlock’s,” Muriel decided. </p>
<p>Crowley held the door for them as Aziraphale carried his burden inside.  Nuriel and Muriel followed him in and Jacob went back to get the milk, leaving Warlock alone with Crowley.  “I should take Aziraphale home after this,” Crowley said, “He <i>really</i> hates having to smite people, if he had to smite someone, they were <i>really</i> pushing his buttons and that’s going to put him in a downer for <b>weeks</b>.”</p>
<p>“I really can’t imagine Cenn smiting <b>anybody,</b>” Warlock said.  Then winced, just as Crowley arched an eyebrow at him. </p>
<p>The door opened and Aziraphale stepped out.  “We should go before she wakes up.  They’ll have their hands full without us getting underfoot.”  He paused and looked at Warlock. </p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “I’ll be alright.  Thank you for coming for me.”  His eyes started to sting, “I really needed you both.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale stepped forward to hug him, “Of course, my dear boy.  Of course.”</p>
<p>Crowley stepped up and wrapped his arms around both of them.  “’Cenn?’” he said softly.</p>
<p>Warlock winced again, “Sorry, that kinda slipped out…”</p>
<p>“What?  What did?” Aziraphale frowned. </p>
<p>“He called you ‘Cenn.’”</p>
<p>“Isn’t that what the children call Nuriel?”</p>
<p>“Mm-hmm.”</p>
<p>Warlock couldn’t meet Aziraphale’s astonished gaze.  “Oh my <b>dear</b> boy!!” Aziraphale cried then hugged him hard. </p>
<p>Crowley reached into his pocket and drew out a shiny brand-new phone.  He pressed the button to activate it, thumbed it open, and showed the contacts list where he and Aziraphale were already added, then offered it to Warlock.  “Get some more sleep, Hellspawn,” he said softly, “We’ll be gone when you wake up again.   Call whenever you want.  Aziraphale doesn’t sleep so don’t worry about the time difference.  One of us will always pick up.”</p>
<p>“You’re better parents than Mummy and Daddy ever were,” Warlock managed through his tears.</p>
<p>“Not that hard to do,” Crowley quipped and Warlock couldn’t help but grin.</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>The late afternoon sun filtered into the large upstairs room.  One ray struck the red glass shade of the lantern hanging from the ceiling boss, causing it to glow as if lit.  Warlock closed out the school programs on his laptop and stretched.  <i>Plan for the next five minutes, have a cup of tea then yoga,</i> he thought.  He poured himself another cup of tea from the pot on the warm wood stove and sat back against his beanbag with a happy sigh.</p>
<p>He opened his eyes at the creak of a door opening and looked around to see a young woman - the young woman he had Seen - peering cautiously out into the room.  “Hi,” he said, “You want some tea?”</p>
<p>“Wh-where am I?”</p>
<p>“Muriel and Nuriel’s farm.  Ontario.  Canada.”</p>
<p>The young woman’s eyes widened, “How did I get here?”</p>
<p>“What do you remember?”</p>
<p>“I had the weirdest dream…”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head and smiled,  “Wasn’t a dream.  You’re Marion, right?  Is that what you want us to call you?  I’m Warlock.”</p>
<p>Marion edged cautiously around the door jamb and approached the stove where Warlock poured her a cup of tea and shoved a beanbag over to her.  “Warlock?  Like… the kid who went missing from camp?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yup, that’s me.  I’ve been here.  It’s safe here.  Whatever you’re running from, you’re safe here.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0014"><h2>14. The Vision of the Burning Bush</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>It was the first Wednesday in April, and the angels and demons of Illumination were traveling to England for their annual gathering.  Warlock was going as the new prophet but he was also there for another reason.</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Warning for some not too detailed descriptions of animal husbandry, veterinary medicine, and mention of animal stillbirth.  I grew up on a farm, farm life has its icky sides.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was a partly-cloudy day.  Warlock strode down the causeway into the baggage lounge.  Behind him, Muriel and Nuriel chattered as Warlock looked around, watching for his bag to come down the chute.  He scooped it up and fell into step beside the angels as they walked out of the terminal. </p>
<p>It was the first Wednesday in April, and the angels and demons of Illumination were traveling to England for their annual gathering.  Warlock was going as the new prophet but he was also there for another reason.</p>
<p>There it was, at the kerb — Nanny’s old car.  Nanny leaned against it, arms crossed and ankles crossed, then his mouth dropped into an O of surprised delight. </p>
<p>Because the young man running towards him barely resembled the young man who’d escaped a camp last summer.  Crowley took in the thunder grey utilikilt, red and black check lumberjack jacket, Converse trainers, cosmetics, and short thunder grey witch hat.  “What’s with the hat?”</p>
<p>“I saw it and I just loved it!” Warlock beamed, “And my name’s already Warlock.”  He fell into Crowley’s arms for a tight hug.</p>
<p>“Yo, bitches!” Crowley grinned at Muriel and Nuriel and kissed their cheeks as they giggled.</p>
<p>“Where’s Professor Honeycakes?” Muriel asked.</p>
<p>“Helping the caterers set up.”</p>
<p>“How many are coming?” Nuriel wanted to know.</p>
<p>“About fifty this time.  Chad can’t make it but Tanith is on her way.”</p>
<p>“What about Penny?”</p>
<p>“You betcha, and she’s bringing her violin.  Hop in!”</p>
<p>They hopped in.  There it was - the smell of old leather and patchouli and musk and just the faintest hint of rotten egg — the smell of Nanny’s old car that hit Warlock right in the soul and transported him back to the happiest times in his life.  Then Crowley put the car in gear and the Bentley pulled away into the traffic and merged onto the motorway.</p>
<p>Ten minutes later, Crowley’s phone chimed and he answered it to a blast of electric guitars as ZZTop’s <i>Legs</i> suddenly spilled out into the Bentley cabin. “Oh no,” he groaned and looked into the rear view mirror, “Awwwugh!”</p>
<p>Warlock looked back, “What is it?”</p>
<p>“We’ve got incoming,” Crowley grumped.  Warlock looked back again to see a car rapidly catching up to the Bentley.  It pulled alongside and Crowley snarled and put his phone on speaker. “What have you done now?!”</p>
<p>“I had it painted!” came the other driver’s voice.</p>
<p>“Like <i>that?!</i>  <b>Why?</b>”</p>
<p>“I was watching videos on 80s Night and I noticed there was a resemblance.”</p>
<p>“What ‘resemblance?’  The Eliminator was a custom-built 1933 Ford coupe!”</p>
<p>“And the Illuminator is a Mini Cooper!”  By now Muriel and Nuriel were snort-laughing behind their hands.</p>
<p>Crowley directed a thoroughly-unimpressed sneer out the window at the other car, “You did this to try to needle me again, didn’t you.”</p>
<p>“And it’s working rather well,” the other driver agreed.  Warlock started to giggle.</p>
<p>The bickering escalated and pretty soon they were challenging each other to race.  Warlock didn’t bother to hide his grin - he knew how fast Nanny’s old car could go!   ….Though he was a little bit surprised that the jumped-up Mini was keeping up to it.</p>
<p>The probably-should-have-been-terrifying-if-he-hadn’t-grown-up-with-it ride came to an end in the South Downs.  Nanny turned his old car down a hedged drive and parked it beside an absolutely picture-book English cottage.  It was straight out of a fairy story, with rose trellises curling around the door, shaded by apple trees whose buds were just developing.  Warlock caught a glimpse of glass greenhouses around the back, but the front garden was occupied by dressed tables being set by caterers.  A number of other people were gathered around, some helping, some mingling, some trailing after the tartan-trimmed angel who was fussing about.  Warlock put on his sunglasses and was unsurprised to see that, aside from the caterers, most of the people here had wings. </p>
<p>“What is this?” the driver of the Mini scoffed, getting out, “Pete and Re-Pete?”  Nuriel snorted and the Mini’s other passengers started giggling. </p>
<p>Crowley draped his arm around Warlock’s shoulders, drew him close and snarled, “Don’t talk to me or my son ever again!”</p>
<p>“<i>Son?!</i>” the other driver gasped.  He stared Warlock up and down and looked back at Crowley, “Is this a new model of Nephilim?  Where’d you get a son?”</p>
<p>“Picked him up at Tesco, fifty percent off!”</p>
<p>“Oi!” Warlock exclaimed.</p>
<p>“Alright, twenty-five percent,” Crowley grinned, “This is Warlock, you remember I told you about him?  This is Taz, he’s an old friend of mine.”</p>
<p>“Hello,” Taz smiled.  He presented like a rather ordinary middle-aged thick-bodied man, possibly Desi or maybe Iranian, dressed in a hoody and jeans.  He had the kind of unfortunate hair that looked lank even when freshly washed and a band of thick scar tissue bisected his face down the middle.</p>
<p>But through Warlock’s sunglasses, his wings looked bent and broken, only partly covered with pearly black feathers.  His eyes were large and black, though they seemed to be mammalian as far as Warlock could tell.  A disc of flame burned on his forehead.  The only other person present who carried such a disc was Crowley.  Warlock tipped his head, “Are you the Uncle Taz that Jacob and Avery keep telling me about?”</p>
<p>“That’s me.  Friend of theirs?”</p>
<p>“He’s staying with us,” Muriel grinned.</p>
<p>“How’d you break your son so badly that he needs to stay with Muriel?”</p>
<p>“I didn’t break him!” Crowley sputtered.</p>
<p>“Nanny just raised me to be the Antichrist,” Warlock said impishly.</p>
<p>Taz nodded, “Oh, yeah, that’ll do it.”</p>
<p>“And my parents were <i>worse,</i>” Warlock grinned and hugged Crowley, “Nanny was a way better parent so I adopted her and now she’s my Nanny and Aziraphale is my Cenn.”</p>
<p>“And Taz is that one wacky uncle,” Crowley quipped. </p>
<p>“I resemble that remark!” said Taz, and he grinned at Warlock, “Well good, welcome to the family.”</p>
<p>“Warlock!”</p>
<p>That was Aziraphale’s voice.  Warlock turned but not all the way, instead pausing a moment to watch the way Crowley’s face melted into adoration and joy.   If ever Warlock had wondered what inspired the cartoon image of hearts popping up around a person who was in love, the answer was right beside him.  (He’d never wondered, because Nanny had never been able to suppress that reaction around Brother Francis either, but the answer was there just the same.)   He glanced at Taz, who was watching Crowley the same way, with a satisfied smile.  Then Warlock turned further and stepped forward into Aziraphale’s embrace.  “Cenn!”</p>
<p>The angel’s smile was dazzling.  “How was your flight over, dear boy?  Do you need to rest up a bit first?”</p>
<p>“I’m okay,” said Warlock, who was hopped up on adrenalin though he was starting to feel the jet lag.</p>
<p>Crowley said, watching Warlock carefully in a way that was so, so familiar, “We have your room ready upstairs.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah, I should take my bags up.”  </p>
<p>“Let me help you, dear boy,” Aziraphale said immediately, “I’ll show you where it is, upstairs on the west side.”</p>
<p>Warlock followed, pausing on the threshold of the cottage door to look inside.  “This is a nice place!”</p>
<p>“It used to belong to Archangel Raphael,” Aziraphale beamed, “She entrusted her farm to us when she returned to Heaven.  We found ourselves spending more and more time here and, well, finally it just became ‘ours.’”  He led Warlock up the stairs and opened a door, “Here we are!”</p>
<p>“Oh wow!  Are those my old sheets?”  Warlock stepped into the room, set his bags down, and touched the red and white tartan flannel sheets that he remembered so well from his childhood.  His old pyjamas were laid out on the tartan quilt - or replicas of, since he’d refused to part with his original ones, took them back to America and wore them until he outgrew them, then his mother had thrown them away, and he had-</p>
<p>“Warlock?”</p>
<p>Warlock pulled himself back to the present.  He was in… in a room that was unfamiliar and familiar at the same time.  He was in Nanny and Cenn’s cottage in England.  He was back in the country he felt he knew best.  He was back with the two people he loved the most.  “Thank you,” he whispered.</p>
<p>Aziraphale touched his shoulder.  “Do you need me to stay?  Or Crowley?”</p>
<p>Warlock took a deep breath but shook his head, “No, it’s okay.  I’m okay.  You’ve got stuff to do, still.”  He turned to follow Aziraphale back down the stairs, “Nanny said a lot happened at the summit?”</p>
<p>“Hell discharging their first ten thousand souls?  Yes, it’s quite exciting!” Aziraphale wiggled, “We’ve been working on this for six years as a pilot project.”</p>
<p>“What happens to them?”</p>
<p>“Some will go to Heaven, most will go to recycling, have another go at it.”</p>
<p>“Reincarnation?”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s one word for it,” Aziraphale nodded, </p>
<p>“So everyone here is pretty important then,” Warlock said thoughtfully.  He felt a sudden stab of anxiety and his mind and heart both started to race. </p>
<p>“Warlock?  Are you alright?”</p>
<p>“Hmmm….. Emotional flashback,” drawled a voice in the thickest Siberian Russian accent Warlock had ever heard.  He turned around and looked up.</p>
<p>And up.  The person was enormous, more than a head taller than Crowley and nearly twice as broad as Aziraphale.  She set down the tray she was carrying and gazed at Warlock speculatively.  “No good to ask where is mind because mind here, da?”  Warlock nodded.  “But <i>emotions</i> not here.  Emotions is in past then in future, da?  Emotions following pattern then project into future for consequences, da?”  Warlock stared at her.  “What is trigger?”</p>
<p>Warlock struggled to form an answer.  “Receptions, I guess,” he said finally, “Whenever I have to meet a lot of important people with my parents and there’s photographers and journalists and stuff.  I always have to be on my best behaviour and I <i>try</i>, I really do but-”  He broke off at a light touch on his shoulder. </p>
<p>“Here we are, good, da, here is anxiety, here is emotion, now is caught up with us, da.   You try but - what happen next?”</p>
<p>“I always get it wrong somehow,” Warlock nearly wailed, “I don’t smile enough or I’m rude even though I’m really trying not to be or I’m too quiet or I’m too hyper.”</p>
<p>“Here is inner critic,” the giant woman said, “Now, who say these things?”</p>
<p>“My parents.”</p>
<p>“Who say these things who is not parents?”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “Nanny always said I did fine but… Mummy and Daddy…”</p>
<p>“What Nanny say?”</p>
<p>“She’d always tell me that I did fine,” Warlock sighed, “But she’d tell me what I did right, so that helped.  Sometimes….”</p>
<p>“Hokay.  Anything is different about this situation?”</p>
<p>“….No journalists?” Warlock tried, “No photo ops?  Mummy and Daddy aren’t here.  But… those are all still pretty important people, right?”</p>
<p>“Ehhh,” the big woman shrugged, “Some of them get swelled heads.”</p>
<p>“You don’t have to, Warlock,” Aziraphale said gently. </p>
<p>“He is prophet, though, da?” the woman asked, “Everyone want to meet new prophet.  He is right, is little important.  Need cope, da?”  Warlock nodded.  “Hokay. Da.  Now you know you having emotional flashback.  You know is pattern, you know what trigger, you know what future emotions going to.  Da.  You with Muriel, da?  Da, good, so you know tapping?  Da, good.  We tap together, get flashback under control.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded and followed her lead, working through the tapping sequences.  <i>This isn’t one of Daddy’s events.  It’s not a press conference.  It’s Nanny and Cenn.  And they’re not all strangers, Muriel and Nuriel are here.  And Cenn will let me leave if I get too tired.  I don’t have to pretend that we’re the perfect family.  I can do this.</i>  He opened his eyes, feeling better able to face the large gathering. </p>
<p>“How is now?”</p>
<p>“One.. Two,” Warlock replied, “Better.  Thank you… um….. I’m sorry, I didn’t catch your name…”</p>
<p>“I not say name?  I not say name-” She rolled her eyes in self-exasperation.</p>
<p>Aziraphale gasped, “Oh, I’m terribly sorry!  How rude of me not to introduce you!”</p>
<p>The woman waved him off and smiled.  “Ditr,” she said. </p>
<p>“Warlock,” Warlock said automatically.  Ditr, the psychologist of the angels and demons, the one Muriel and Nuriel studied with and shared their work with children.  The one who was Nanny’s therapist and had prepared him to help Warlock.  “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“You take other tray, we go out together, da?” Ditr smiled then grinned at Aziraphale, “Stop worry, all work out fine.”</p>
<p>“Nevertheless, Warlock,” Aziraphale laid a gentle hand on Warlock’s shoulder, “This <b>isn’t</b> one of your father’s photo opportunities.  It’s just a gathering of friends, albeit a large one this time.   You don’t have to try to be perfect or anyone other than yourself.  Whenever you’ve had enough, you don’t need to ask permission to retire.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  “Thank you,” he said wholeheartedly.  He put on his sunglasses and was surprised to see that a disc of flame burned on Ditr’s forehead, similar to the ones Nanny and Taz had.  Then he picked up a tray and followed Ditr out into the garden to help her set up. </p>
<p>He felt a nudge at his elbow and looked up to see Taz showing him his phone.  Obediently, he looked, then clapped his hand over his mouth to keep from laughing hysterically at the gif of Nanny apparently shifting between her snake and human forms, looped to the beat of an old disco song.  Ditr looked over and boomed with laughter. </p>
<p>“He’s bugging Tanith about her keytar,” Taz explained.</p>
<p>Ditr’s eyes lit up with excited anticipation, “Oh nooooo!  You set up bait?”  Taz smirked and jumped his eyebrows.</p>
<p>“Are you showing it to everyone?!” came Crowley’s outraged voice across the lawn, “How come you never pick on Aziraphale?”</p>
<p>Taz grinned and flicked his finger across his phone, changing the image.  Warlock slapped his hand across his mouth again.  Crowley’s phone chirped and he flicked it open to scowl at it, then bit his lips against the grin that tried to spread them.  “….Yeah alright, fair, he does look a bit like a quokka,” he conceded.</p>
<p>“Stick around for a few sets,” Taz told Warlock, “We’re aiming to make Crowley make That Face.”   Warlock mashed his palm against his mouth.  “You know the Face I mean?”  </p>
<p>Warlock nodded and mashed harder, “Mm-hmm.”  Taz grinned and drifted off.  He watched as Taz met with some other people gathered around a set of instruments at the end of the garden.  They hugged and kissed each other’s cheeks and chatted a bit before they picked up their instruments.  Taz picked up a guitar and settled the strap around his neck.   He strummed a few times as the others tested their own instruments, then he strummed out a hard rock rhythm in oscillating scales and the rest of the band settled into place.  The woman with the keytar set her hand over the keyboard. </p>
<p>Then they launched into a hard rock cover of “Funkytown.”  Crowley looked around and scowled at them with That Face and Warlock nearly fell over for laughing. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>“…And then I get <b>this</b>,” Crowley was saying and clicked play on the video.  Warlock grinned in anticipation.</p>
<p>The widescreen telly resolved into… Warlock.  Zoomed in on, in the dark, with light from a lantern and an electric spot illuminating his face.  “’Hi Nanny!’’ he was saying, “’It’s the first of February, which I understand is significant for you.  It’s half-one in the morning.  It’s minus twenty.  And I’m out here in a barn outside of Oakwood with my arm halfway up a sheep’s vagina.”  The company erupted into hysterical laughter, drowning out the rest of Warlock’s recorded words as the image zoomed out to show him, dressed in jeans, parka, silly plaid hat, a heavy canvas apron, and a plastic sleeve up to his shoulder.  “’-and the person teaching me all of this is eleven years old.’”  The camera swung to show a beaming girl, similarly dressed and holding a lantern and a pair of what looked like pliers.  “’Whatever my parents wanted me to be doing with my life, I’m pretty sure this wasn’t it but here we are.’”  </p>
<p>By now the camera was jerking as its operator tried to hold it steady.  “’You didn’t expect to be fisting sheep?’” the operator giggled.</p>
<p>“’Dude!’” Warlock gestured at the girl with his free hand, “’Language!’”</p>
<p>“’I’ve heard worse,’” the girl grinned.</p>
<p>“’<span class="small">Yeah, there’s no movement in there…</span> And Jacob’s laughing at me because he’s a skunk.  Anyhow, I’m fine, I’m cold, happy whatever day it is for you.  I love you and Cenn!  Byebye!’”  The video ended.</p>
<p>“I found him collapsed across the table, utterly silent, clutching his phone and shaking,” Aziraphale said, “I thought something was wrong.  Then he looked up and his face was wet with tears and I thought something terrible had happened.  Then I realised he was <i>laughing.</i>”  He turned to pat Warlock’s shoulder, “Well done, dear boy! - Very few people can make Crowley laugh that hard.”   Warlock grinned. </p>
<p>“So I had to miracle myself over with a bottle of light cider and a basket,” Crowley grinned.</p>
<p>“And that was how I learned the true meaning of Brighid’s Day,” Warlock nodded, “We’re cold, we’re tired, we’ve been following livestock around all day and probably all night too, so here’s food you can eat with one hand in a freezing barn after you pull out a stillbirth and here’s a drink because who doesn’t need a drink after all that.”  The company roared with laughter again.</p>
<p>“Amazingly, he still wants to farm goats,” Nuriel added, to more laughter. </p>
<p>“I’ll admit I had the rose-coloured glasses knocked off,” Warlock agreed, “But the sheep lived and so did the other lamb, so we were pretty happy about that.”</p>
<p>A soft scent of smoke wafted over the garden as Warlock turned back to finishing his meal.  It grew stronger and he realised it didn’t smell like a barbecue grill.  It grew strong enough to draw Crowley’s attention and he turned, one eyebrow rising over his sunglasses as he stared at a juniper bush that was increasingly incandescent.  “Aw no……”</p>
<p>It burst into flames. </p>
<p>The company fell silent.  Many of the angels dropped to one knee.  Most of the demons looked slightly confused and - trying to be as inconspicuous as possible - subtly gathered around the three who had burning discs on their foreheads, when Warlock saw them through his sunglasses. </p>
<p>WARLOCK DOWLING</p>
<p>Warlock’s heart leaped into his throat and pounded hard enough to make him dizzy.  He immediately clutched for his Nanny. </p>
<p>“It’s alright,” he heard Aziraphale murmur, “I know what’s happening.”  Warlock looked around to see Aziraphale’s eyes shining with pride. </p>
<p>He looked at Nanny.  The disc on Nanny’s forehead was fully visible now but the set of his jaw was grim. “What do I do?” Warlock whispered.   The fire thickened and rose into a tall column.   Nanny jerked his chin in the direction of the fire but said nothing.  </p>
<p>“The major prophets - Enoch and Elijah and the rest - they all had something in common,” Aziraphale said, “God spoke to them directly.  Now it’s your turn.”  Warlock swallowed and turned towards the column of flame.  “Go on.”</p>
<p>Warlock swallowed again, then squared his shoulders and walked into the flames.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Ditr's language is based off of a lovely former coworker who'd immigrated from Siberia.  Ditr speaks Siberian Russian most often.  I did some research into the most common English grammar 'mistakes' of Russian speakers of English as a second language.  As I have several second languages myself, I'm very familiar with the way one tends to default to one's mother-tongue grammar and syntax, when one gets into the topic and stops focusing on the language itself.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0015"><h2>15. The Vision of the Prophet</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>The envelope was addressed in a neat, ornate cursive in fading ink.  Warlock wondered how old it was.  Very carefully he broke the wax seal and extracted the letter within.  It was dated 1654. </p>
<p>‘To thee who seeth with the serpent’s eyes, herewithe I keep my promise.’ </p>
<p>Warlock dropped the letter.</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>
  <i>It was quiet.  The dense fog absorbed sound.  All he could hear were his own footsteps crunching over the leaves and grass.  And the sound of water.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She picked up the bowl and poured water over her head.  Foam washed into the water, her hair waving in the burn like sea grass.  Then she raised her head, wrung out her long hair and wrapped it with a linen cloth.  “It’s yourself, then.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He said nothing.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“This is how it started,” she said, getting up from the stony pool in the streambed, “You know how it ended.  And you know how it’s going to end.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He nodded.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“It’s all for you to See.  You, who sees with the Serpent’s Sight.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He followed her up the bank and she grew and grew older as she walked until she was a middle-aged woman, leaning against the cottage door.</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Was it worth it?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She grinned and shrugged, “Ask me again in five hundred years.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“How did you manage, knowing?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>“Ah,” she said, and now she looked around the same apparent age as Nanny as she raked her fingers through her long greying hair, “Now that I can help with.”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>He stood facing her across the mirror-polished floor reflecting escalators, one going up, the other going down.  “Does it get any easier?”</i>
</p>
<p>
  <i>She smiled at him and exploded.</i>
</p>
<p>Warlock gasped awake.  He choked on his own breath for a few moments, his heart racing erratically. <i>I’m in England.  I’m in Nanny and Cenn’s cottage.  I’m in my old flannel bed sheets.  They’re soft and fuzzy and warm.  I’m under Cenn’s tartan quilt.  It’s heavy and warm.  I’m okay. I’m safe.</i>  He sat up and reached for his notebook to write down the dream before it slipped away like quicksilver.  </p>
<p>Downstairs, he heard the chatter of voices - Muriel and Nuriel laughing with Cenn and Nanny.  Someone was cooking bacon and the aroma made Warlock’s mouth water and his stomach growl.  He got up and changed his pyjamas for a shirt and his kilt, then put on his sunglasses and Saw. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>Crowley’s phone rang.  He stared at it with one eyebrow arched above his sunglasses, then picked it up, frowned at it, and thumbed it open. “Book girl!  S’been a while, how’ve you been?  How are things in Tadfield?”  The frown grew more puzzled, “Sure, what’ve you got?  Oh yeah?  ‘The warlock of the new world?’” Warlock froze, “Yeah, he’s just sitting down to breakfast, did you need to talk with him?  Oh!  ..<i>That’s</i> interesting.  I guess we’ll be popping up to Tadfield, then.  Right.  See you later, then.”  He quit the call and glanced at Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Anathema Device-Pulsifer is a direct descendant of Agnes Nutter, the last prophet,” Aziraphale said quietly, “She helped prevent the Apocalypse.”</p>
<p>“Says she’s got a package from her mother.  It appears to be addressed to you,” Crowley added, “So whenever you’re ready.”</p>
<p>Nuriel laid a hand on Warlock’s shoulder, “Are you alright?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Yeah.”</p>
<p>“Finish your breakfast first, dear boy,” Aziraphale said.  He looked at Muriel and Nuriel, “I don’t know how long we’ll be gone.  Will you two be alright for the day?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, we’re going to head up to London,” said Muriel, “Nuriel’s getting hunches again.”</p>
<p>“You down for another kidnapping if I need to?” Nuriel asked casually.</p>
<p>Aziraphale smiled, “I trust your judgement, my dear.”</p>
<p>Warlock put on his sunglasses, then his reading glasses, then he picked up a pencil and started sketching.  He shook his head, “This is all I can get right now.”</p>
<p>Nuriel peered over his shoulder, “Islington… Yeah that fits with what I’ve been feeling.  The fact that you’re able to get this much, practically at will, is pretty remarkable.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale nodded, “I don’t think even Agnes was able to get ‘Sight on demand’, as it were.”   Warlock thought about that as he ate. </p>
<p>“Do you want a lift?” Crowley asked Nuriel.</p>
<p>“Is it on your way?”</p>
<p>“No.”</p>
<p>“Then I’ll bug Taz, he’s still in town.”</p>
<p>“My Bentley’s a lot roomier.  And it plays Queen.”</p>
<p>“Does it have disco lights?”  </p>
<p>Crowley snarled and Nuriel laughed.  Warlock finished eating and took his plate to rinse it in the sink.  Then he turned to Crowley, “I guess I’m ready whenever you are.”</p>
<p>“Alright,” Crowley said gently, “Let’s go, then.”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>The best part about riding in Nanny’s old car was the way Cenn screeched about his driving.  Warlock spent most of the trip with his hand mashed against his mouth trying not to laugh.  From what he’d seen, Nanny would do just about anything for Cenn but rein back on his speeding was not one of them.   The old car played <i>Don’t Stop Me Now</i> the whole way, until they screeched to a halt in front of a picturesque little cottage in the tiny semi-rural village called Tadfield.</p>
<p>“I’ll just wait at the pub,” Cenn said and got out quickly. </p>
<p>Warlock turned inquisitively to Crowley, who winced, “She… doesn’t actually like us much.  She doesn’t like me but she <i>really</i> doesn’t like Aziraphale.”</p>
<p>“Why not?”</p>
<p>“She thinks he stole her book <i>which he did <b>not</b></i>, she left it in the back of my car!”</p>
<p>“Why was she in your car?”</p>
<p>
  <span class="small">”Might have collided with her.”</span>
</p>
<p>“You <i>what?!</i>” Warlock goggled.</p>
<p>“I didn’t hit her, she hit me!  She came flying out of the woods on that bicycle of hers and ran smack into us!”</p>
<p>“So you’re saying Cenn has a point!”</p>
<p><i>”He does not have a point!”</i> Crowley roared, “Ninety years driving and I never hit anyone until then.”</p>
<p>“First time for everything,” Warlock quipped.  Crowley sneered at him.   “Maybe you should wait at the pub too,” Warlock decided.</p>
<p>Crowley hesitated then visibly decided Warlock was right.  “You text me if anything happens.  She won’t hurt you but… she’s got a bit of a bee up her bum about… just about everything, really.  But especially Agnes and <i>especially</i> us.”  Warlock nodded then leaned over to kiss Nanny’s cheek and got out of the car.</p>
<p>The door opened as he approached and he found himself face to face with a young woman with long black hair, small round glasses, and a serious expression.  “Um, hi…  I’m Warlock Dowling.”</p>
<p>“That’s your name?” she blurted, “’Warlock?’  <b>Actually</b> ‘Warlock?’”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded ruefully, “The nuns told my mother it was a traditional old English name and she actually believed that.  <i>Mostly</i> she just wanted to get back at my dad by not naming me Thaddeus The Fourth, but yeah - Warlock, Warlock Dowling.”</p>
<p>“Anathema Device-Pulsifer.  C’mon in,” she stood back to let him inside and led him into the kitchen, “Where are you from?”</p>
<p>“I was born here in England but my parents are from the U.S.A.  We went back to the States when I was eleven.”</p>
<p>“’The Warlock of the New World,’” Anathema recited with an exasperated sigh, “I swear, half of it is riddles, the other half is lousy puns.”   She turned to pick up a package from the table, “This is for you.”</p>
<p>Warlock frowned, “What is it?”</p>
<p>“It was part of my mother’s will,” Anathema said. </p>
<p>The envelope on top of the package was yellowed and looked incredibly fragile.  “Do you have any gloves?”</p>
<p>Anathema blinked, “What, like… rubber gloves?  Gardening gloves?  Medical gloves?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “Medical gloves, yeah, those will work.”  Anathema opened a drawer, pulled out a first aid kit, and handed him a pair of nitrile medical gloves.  He slipped them on then very carefully lifted the envelope.  It was addressed in a neat, ornate cursive in fading ink.  He wondered how old it was.  Very carefully he broke the wax seal and extracted the letter within.  It was dated 1654. </p>
<p>‘To thee who seeth with the serpent’s eyes, herewithe I keep my promise.’ </p>
<p>Warlock dropped the letter. </p>
<p>“Are you alright?!  You’ve gone grey!  Here, sit down, quickly,” Anathema swung a chair under him and Warlock nearly fell onto it.</p>
<p>“I just dreamed that this morning,” he whispered. </p>
<p>“Let me put the kettle on,” she turned to see him starting to open the package, “Maybe you should have a mask too.  No telling where that’s been stored and those old inks and papers could have who knows what chemicals in them.”</p>
<p>The box opened and Warlock lifted out an old manuscript.</p>
<p>“Oh no,” Anathema groaned, “<i>More</i> prophecies?”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head as he gingerly lifted the pages.  “Is there a picture of Agnes?” he asked suddenly. </p>
<p>Anathema blinked.  “Yeah?  Yeah, one portrait survived.  Hang on a moment.”  She took out her phone and started scrolling. “My aunt got it.  I didn’t want it but I took a photograph.”  She held out her phone.</p>
<p>Warlock sucked in his breath.  Then he let it out slowly and nodded, “That’s her.  That’s… I’ve been dreaming about her since I was a kid.  I dreamed about her this morning.” </p>
<p>“<i>This</i> morning?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  I dreamed I asked her, well… how she coped with it all.  She said ‘That I can help with.’”  He inhaled again and tapped the book, “That’s what’s in here.  It’s not prophecies, it’s….  Kind of an instruction manual.”</p>
<p>“<i>Who are you?</i>”</p>
<p>“I’m like her, I guess.  I See things and they come true.”</p>
<p>“You’re a prophet?”</p>
<p>“I guess, yeah.”</p>
<p>Anathema set the teapot and two mugs down on the table, and read off the envelope, “’To The Warlocke of the Neue World, call him at the abode of the Serpent and the Guardian Angel, Principalitee of the Lorde,’ what have you got to do with them?”</p>
<p>“Crowley was my nanny when I was a kid.  Aziraphale was our gardener.  They were better than my parents so I adopted them.”</p>
<p>“<b>Crowley</b> was a <b>nanny</b>?!”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  She was sent to teach the Antichrist.  They thought that was me.”</p>
<p>“I hope he didn’t teach you how to drive,” Anathema muttered. </p>
<p>The corner of Warlock’s lip twitched, “Oh yeah, Nanny mentioned that.”</p>
<p>“I wish Agnes had!” Anathema exploded.  Warlock was looking at her strangely.  “All her prophecies, she had me doing all these things leading up to the Apocalypse, and they never make sense until after!  Prophecy 3008, ‘When that the angel readeth these words of mine, in his shoppe of other menne’s books, then the final days are certes upon us,’ we figured out that an angel, an actual <i>angel</i>, a <i>Principality</i> would read the book but she never bothered to warn me that I’d be <i>hit by a damned car</i> to do it!”</p>
<p>“Then she didn’t See it,” Warlock said reasonably. </p>
<p>“How could she not See it?  She Saw everything else!”</p>
<p>And Aziraphale’s metaphor abruptly made perfect sense.  “It was part of the twisted yarn,” Warlock said confidently, “She couldn’t See it because it was part of the yarn that got skipped over.”</p>
<p>“What are you talking about?”</p>
<p>“Something Cenn showed me.  Do you have any string?  And a marker?  I can try to show you.”  Anathema reached into the kitchen drawer again and withdrew a ball of kitchen twine and some scissors.  “Yeah, this’ll work, I think.”  Warlock cut a length and marked two black spots on it, then started twisting it.  “Okay, so, this spot’s, let’s say it’s Agnes, in the present, and this spot is Aziraphale reading the book in the future.  And,” he made a third mark in red, “This spot is you hitting Nanny’s car.”</p>
<p>“His car hit <b>me!</b>”</p>
<p>“You and the car colliding in an unfortunate manner,” Warlock said diplomatically.  He let the string kink in on itself, twisting itself up until the two black spots met, “So there’s her Sight, there she’s Seeing Cenn in the future.  But this is all the time in between that got skipped over, all the things she <i>didn’t</i> See, leading up to that.  Including the red spot.”</p>
<p>Anathema seemed to deflate, sinking back into her chair.  “But… why couldn’t she See that?  Something important like that?  She saw so many other things, she saw Newt’s car in the ditch…”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head slowly, “I don’t get to <i>choose</i> what I See.  Or when I See it.  If I concentrate a lot, sometimes I can get in the ballpark of something but… not all the time.  Like,” he paused for a moment, “I can See you holding a baby, in about five years.”  Anathema blinked.  “But I can’t See how you got the baby, like if you gave birth to it or if you adopted it or if it’s like a friend’s baby or a relative’s baby, I don’t know.  I can’t See that, yet.”  He wound up the string again and let it twine on itself, trying to hit the red mark, coming close several times but ultimately unsuccessful.  “Cenn said he didn’t think ‘even Agnes’ could do that.  I kinda got the feeling none of the other prophets could.”  He put the string aside and leaned his elbows on the table, “What’s this <i>really</i> about?  How long ago did your mother die?”</p>
<p>Anathema felt her eyes sting and swallowed hard to fight back the tears.  “When I left to come to England, she said she’d never see me again and I thought that was bollocks, there’s no reason she shouldn’t.  I got settled here and then I was saving up to go back home for a holiday and she… she just…”  She swallowed again, “Prophecy 2017, ‘Unto the One who is Anathema bid fare-thee-well, for soon enough the star behind thine eyes shall shine and take thee to the Heavens.’”  She wiped her eyes with the back of her hand, “It was an aneurism.  She had an aneurism and she never told me and Agnes’s prophecies never make sense until after.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  “I’m sorry.  It sounds like Anges <i>did</i> See it but her warning wasn’t meant for you.”</p>
<p>“I guess you’re right.  This was in Mom’s will, to be sent to me after she passed away.  She didn’t give it to me when I came to England.  She could have but she didn’t.  So she must have been instructed not to.”  Anathema wiped her eyes again, “I’m sorry, I’m being a terrible hostess, aren’t I.”  </p>
<p>Warlock shrugged and poured another cup of tea.  “You say things like Agnes had you doing things through the Apocalypse.”</p>
<p>“She did.  She left all these instructions for me, she had a plan for me.”</p>
<p>Warlock’s eyebrow shot up, “You think she planned <i>the Apocalypse?</i>”</p>
<p>“Well… not <i>as such</i>, no…  But she had to know, right?  God talks to you prophets, right?”</p>
<p>“That was yesterday,” Warlock said ruefully, “Not an experience I wish to repeat.”</p>
<p>Anathema gaped,  “Why not?”</p>
<p>“It kind of did a number on my faith.  I mean, confirmation, right, God is real but…”  he stared into his teacup, “<span class="small">I kind of understand a bit better why Nanny and Cenn are the way they are.</span>”</p>
<p>“That bad?”</p>
<p>“And that good, too, I mean… but… it kind of made mince out of my faith, y’know?”  </p>
<p>Anathema shook her head.  “You keep looking at the clock, are they coming back to pick you up?”</p>
<p>“Eh, it’s not that.  It’s… I’m kind of waiting on my own prophecy, it’s coming up pretty quick here.  But I’m supposed to be outside.”</p>
<p>Anathema shrugged, “Let’s go outside, then.”  She picked up her teacup and led the way out into the garden.  Warlock put on his reading glasses and followed.  “I can’t imagine growing up with the actual Serpent of Eden as your nanny.”</p>
<p>“She was great,” Warlock smiled, “She was strict but she was patient and kind and she never got tired of my stupid questions when I was little.  She’d usually turn them back on me, like ‘why do <b>you</b> think people have feet and not flippers?’ and I’d tell her and then she’d Google it with me.  She always had time for me though.  So did Brother Francis.”</p>
<p>“It’s hard to imagine Crowley being patient.”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned widely, “Then you don’t know Crowley very well yet because he’s incredibly patient.  I mean, sure I annoyed Nanny sometimes but she never yelled at me like my parents did.  She’d go and yell at Brother Francis’s rose bushes but she never yelled at me.”</p>
<p>“Are those her sunglasses?”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  She left them with me when my parents let her go so we could move back to the States.  I put them on one day and it… woke something up.”</p>
<p>“Huh.  So that’s why Agnes said you ‘see with the eyes of the serpent.’  She meant the Serpent of Eden.”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, “They show me scenes in the future.  Then we found out that Cenn’s reading glasses show me hints of how to get there.  That’s what I’m Seeing now.  And… I think that sound has something to do with it.”</p>
<p>“Old Man Tyler’s lawn mower?” Anathema blinked.   As they drew closer, she could hear him muttering and complaining at it.  “Is your mower not working again, Mr. Tyler?”</p>
<p>“Sounds like the carburator?” Warlock said hesitantly.</p>
<p>The old man straightened up and tugged his tweed jacket straight.  “Very close, young fellow - it’s the manifold next to the carburator.  I know what the problem is, I just can’t bend down long enough to fix it, anymore.  And my usual helper is still at school.”</p>
<p>“I can be your knees if you talk me through it,” Warlock offered. </p>
<p>Mr. Tyler regarded him, taking in the grey kilt, Fair Isle jumper, long hair, and eyeliner that Warlock had chosen for his attire today.  “That’s very kind of you to offer, Mister…?”</p>
<p>“Warlock Dowling.”</p>
<p>“Reginald Tyler.  Bit of a handyman, are you?”</p>
<p>“Learning to be, yup!  We fixed Aunt Muriel’s tractor while she was out, she never even knew it broke down!”</p>
<p>Mr. Tyler huffed.  “Come ‘round the front, then.  Mrs. Pulsifer will show you the way.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he’s a bit that way,” Anathema whispered as they walked, “The first time I met him when I arrived here, he gave me some weird speech about ‘fatty spliffers.’  Never did find out what he meant by that.”  Warlock snorted and grinned. </p>
<p>He was just closing up the lawn mower’s casing, after a very instructive hour’s work, when he heard the barking and looked up.  “There he is!!” he exclaimed, “There’s the boy!!  There’s the pupper!!  Ohhhh who’s a good pupper!!  Lookadis pupper!!  Who’s a good boy!!”</p>
<p>Anathema looked puzzled.  “Is <i>that</i> who you were waiting for?  Dog?” she whispered.</p>
<p>Warlock nodded with a wide grin, “Yup!  I Saw him again this morning.”</p>
<p>“Just… Dog?  Not…. Not his owner?” Anathema said, surprised.</p>
<p>“Dog!  <i>Dog!</i>” </p>
<p>And Warlock looked around at the sound of another young man’s voice.  “You’re letting him run off the leash again, Adam Young!” Mr. Tyler admonished, “I shall have a word with your father!”</p>
<p>“He’s over here,” Warlock called.  He brushed off his kilt and stood up. </p>
<p>The young man called Adam Young stood frozen in shock.  “It’s you,” he breathed. </p>
<p>Warlock’s face split into a grin, “You’re real!”</p>
<p>“Yeah,” Adam nodded, “…. I never forgot you.”</p>
<p>Warlock tipped his head, “Did we meet before?”</p>
<p>“Once.  You… probably don’t remember it.”</p>
<p>“Oh, I believe it!”</p>
<p>Adam’s face melted into a misty smile then he put out his hand, “Adam Young.”</p>
<p>“Warlock Dowling.”  They shook hands.  “You really named your dog ‘Dog?’”</p>
<p>“Yeah!  It was easier,” Adam smiled.  He scratched his head, looking hesitant for a moment, “Are you in town long?”</p>
<p>Warlock shook his head, “We’re catching a red-eye flight tonight back to Canada but I’ll be back in two months.  I’m spending the summer with Nanny and Cenn.”  Adam looked slightly disappointed.  “You have video chat?”</p>
<p>“Oh!  Right! Duh! - Phone!”  He pulled out his phone and gave it to Warlock.  </p>
<p>“There you go,” Warlock handed it back after putting Adam’s information into his own phone.  A familiar shriek of tyres made him look up to see the Bentley approaching. </p>
<p>“Damnedest thing,” Mr. Tyler muttered, “I <b>swore</b> that car was <i>on fire</i>, once, but there it is with not a scratch on it.”</p>
<p>“Really good restoration work,” Adam quipped with a quick grin at Anathema, who grinned back. </p>
<p>“That’s my Nanny, so I better get going,” Warlock said.  He picked up his book and looked at Anathema, “See?  Missed that point on the string.”  She grinned.  “Thank you.”</p>
<p>“Thank <b>you.</b>  You really cleared my head about things.”</p>
<p>“Thank you for your help, young Mr. Dowling,” Mr. Tyler turned an arch look towards Adam, “He might even give you some competition!”</p>
<p>“He can be my back-up,” Adam grinned with a wink at Warlock.</p>
<p>Warlock grinned back then said his final goodbyes, ruffled Dog once more, then made his way out towards the Bentley.</p>
<p>“I see you’ve met the Antichrist,” Crowley said casually as Warlock settled in. </p>
<p>“What I met,” Warlock smiled, fastening his seatbelt, “Was the man of my dreams!  <i>Literally</i>, I’ve been dreaming about him all my life!”</p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>It was a clear and starry night.   Warlock stared up at the band of stars stretching overhead, the cool breeze bringing the scents of fresh grass and leaves and spring flowers. </p>
<p>“Taz and I made those ones.  Bootes.  It’s got a bunch of triple and quadruple star systems, we came up with those to compensate for the design flaws in the blueprints.  Gadreel was a brilliant designer but absolutely did not understand the conditions we were working with out there.  Epsilon Bootes was Taz’s idea though, he just thought it’d be pretty.”  Warlock followed Crowley’s finger around the sky, silent.</p>
<p>“It is pretty,” Aziraphale agreed, “He’s got excellent design sense.”</p>
<p>“Yeah, he does.  We made a good team.”</p>
<p>“Did he come up with the constellations?”</p>
<p>“No, that was Gadreel and the other designers but we were the ones who figured out how to get them to stay more or less together while they went about their galactic year.”</p>
<p>“They’re all orbiting the black hole in the middle, aren’t they?  Like a whirlpool?  Will they eventually be sucked in?”</p>
<p>“<b>No,</b> you’d think that, wouldn’t you?  It <i>looks</i> like a whirlpool, it’s a bit of a surprise that that’s not what it is at all.” Crowley’s face and voice became more animated as he spoke, “They all have their own orbits on their own orbital planes at their own speeds, but they’re almost all elliptical, so when their turning arcs start to line up, that’s when you get a spiral arm.”</p>
<p>“Huh.  Six thousand years and I don’t think you’ve ever explained that to me before,” said Aziraphale.</p>
<p>“Yeah… well……”  Crowley looked away but Aziraphale smiled at him. </p>
<p>Warlock let the gentle patter wash over him.  <i>”Don’t ever ask anything about the time before she Fell.  Not unless she volunteers something first - and then keep it <b>only</b> to what she volunteers,”</i> Nuriel’s advice echoed in his head.  “I heard there was a star that’s like, its temperature is like a cup of coffee?”</p>
<p>“Yeah, ninety-seven degrees Celsius!  It’s a brown dwarf, only seventy-five light years from here,” Crowley grinned,</p>
<p>“One of yours?” Aziraphale said slyly. </p>
<p>Crowley looked affronted, “You think everything odd in the universe is <i>our</i> fault?”</p>
<p>“Well it does seem to me that ‘How low do you think it can go and still burn?’ is a question you might ask,” Aziraphale smirked.  Warlock grinned. </p>
<p>“Yeahhhh that was me,” Crowley admitted, “Taz was just as curious, though.”</p>
<p>“It seems to me you were often leading him into mischief.”</p>
<p>“Is it our fault they never checked in on us?” Crowley objected, “It’s <b>boring</b> out there, Angel, boring and unstable, or it was in those days.  They’d send us off into the most unstable regions but they’d never go themselves.  And then they’d just forget about us.  And we weren’t the only ones, Yeqon was messing around with some asteroids and lost his grip on the one he was using as a baseball bat, sent it tumbling end over end off into the great beyond.  It actually ended up <b>here</b> a couple of years ago, did a whip-round the sun then off again. Why are you grinning like that?”</p>
<p>“No reason,” said Aziraphale, grinning.  His eyes twinkled.  “Just thinking how much you haven’t changed at all.” </p>
<p>Crowley bared his teeth at him.  Then he looked at Warlock, “Alright, hellspawn?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded.  He was quiet for a few more minutes.  “I don’t know how I feel,” he confessed, “I mean, I was raised to believe in God and then… there They are, meeting Them, and They’re…. Kind of a… a bit of a… <span class="small">a dink.</span>”  Crowley snorted.  Aziraphale bit down on his lips.  “It’s kind of…. Validates my faith and messes it up at the same time.”</p>
<p>“<i>Ohhhhh</i>, you got that right.”</p>
<p>“I suppose I shouldn’t be that surprised,” Warlock sighed, “I mean, we were made in God’s image and we’re definitely dinks.”</p>
<p>Crowley threw his head back and laughed, “Fair point.”  There was a sound from Aziraphale that might have been a snort.</p>
<p>  “I asked some questions,” Warlock whispered finally, “I can’t say I liked all the answers.”</p>
<p>Crowley chewed his lip.  “The fact that you got <i>any</i> answers is something of an accomplishment though.”  He pushed his hand through his hair.  “It won’t happen again.  This is the only time you’ll have that direct experience.”</p>
<p>“Only the great prophets ever had that,” Aziraphale added, “Elijah, Enoch, and a few others.”</p>
<p>“Did Agnes?”</p>
<p>“You know, I didn’t actually look.  I was so focused on piecing together the puzzle of the Antichrist’s location that I never looked for that.  If she did, I must have skimmed right past it.”</p>
<p>Crowley huffed, affectionate, “And you say <b>I</b> haven’t changed.”</p>
<p>Warlock looked up again, “I got some answers I do like, though.”</p>
<p>“That’s a plus.”</p>
<p>“Yeah.  They clarified a few things and explained a bit more about Cenn’s metaphor.  It helped me understand my place in it all a bit better.”</p>
<p>“Your place in the old <i>’Ineffable Plan’</i>,”  Crowley drawled so sarcastically, Warlock could hear the quote marks.  Aziraphale shot him a glare. </p>
<p>“Yeahhh apparently it’s <i>kind of</i> a plan but more like an outline, and a lot of code patches on the fly…”</p>
<p>Crowley gaped, “You got <b>that much</b> out of Them?!”</p>
<p>Aziraphale looked just as shocked, “Warlock, that is more than the Almighty has shared with <b>anybody</b> about Her ineffable plan, <i>ever!</i>  Even Her own upper management!”</p>
<p>“I guess I’m special?”</p>
<p>Crowley tipped his head back to look at Aziraphale, “You know, if They said as much to Elijah and Enoch, that could go a lot towards explaining how they got their later positions.”</p>
<p>“A very good point, my dear.  Thankfully, a moot one, now.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s phone chirped and he thumbed it open.  He made a face at it, “Muriel says they’ll meet us at the airport just as soon as she posts Nuriel’s bail.”  Aziraphale tipped his face towards the sky and shook his head.</p>
<p>Warlock sputtered, “What did Tant Nuri <i>do?</i>”</p>
<p>“Probably went angelic on someone’s arse.”</p>
<p>“If you hadn’t noticed, Nuriel is a bit of a scrapper,” Aziraphale agreed.</p>
<p>“They’ll be sitting in the gaol looking all defiant and self-righteous.”</p>
<p>“’He had it coming’ is definitely a sub-current with Nuriel.”</p>
<p>“And you left me with these people?” Warlock teased. </p>
<p>“Oh Nuriel’s judgement is exquisite,” Aziraphale smiled.</p>
<p>Crowley smirked, “They’re almost as good at punishing sinners as some demons I know.”</p>
<p>“Now, my dear, you know they’d take that as a compliment.”</p>
<p>Warlock frowned, “If they have an ASBO in England, won’t that cause problems with them going back to Canada?”</p>
<p>Crowley scoffed and grinned, “Nothing a conveniently-timed system crash won’t fix.”  He tipped his head to look at Warlock, who was looking at the stars again.  “What are you thinking now?”</p>
<p>“I found out that therapy farms are a thing,” Warlock said after a moment, “I think that’s what I want to do.”</p>
<p>Aziraphale’s eyebrows rose, “That’s an interesting idea!”</p>
<p>“I’d need to become a therapist first, psychologist probably.  And I’d need to learn how to run a farm,” Warlock looked at him, “I was thinking, maybe a gap year, after I finish high school?”</p>
<p>“Finish school with Muriel and Nuriel, spend a year learning how to farm, then come back here to go to the university?”  Warlock nodded and Aziraphale smiled, “I think that’s an excellent plan, don’t you, Crowley?”</p>
<p>Crowley was silent for a moment.  “Anything you plan for yourself is far better than anything your Father planned for you,” he said quietly.   And Warlock realised what he’d just done.   Crowley let it sink in for a moment, then smiled, “It sounds great, hellspawn.  And whatever happens, we’re beside you.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0016"><h2>16. The Visions of the Future, part 1: Irreconcilable Differences</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>Harriet was quiet for a moment.   “You didn’t part on good terms.  I think he… maybe he didn’t want to rock the boat any further.”</p>
<p>“You ‘<i>think</i>.’”  Harriet was silent.  Warlock shook his head.  “I wanted to give you guys a chance.  It’s been four years without me.”</p>
          </blockquote><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Some content warnings apply.  Warlock meets with his parents again.  It does not go well.  There is some language, and though I've tried to tone it down, it may stir some things for people who can relate (hi there).  But it's not gratuitous; Warlock has come a long way in his ability to recognise emotional manipulation like gaslighting and crocodile tears.</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>The young man on the park bench was wearing a kilt.  He wore it with a long grey cardigan, a black and red scarf, and a dark grey witch hat with a tartan sash tied around it that almost, but not quite, matched the kilt.  His hair was down past his shoulders now, having grown freely over the past four years.  It was his birthday and he had returned to England, ready to start university.</p>
<p>“Warlock?”</p>
<p>“Hello, Mummy,” he said and looked up. </p>
<p>“I didn’t recognise you,” Harriet said, “You look so…”</p>
<p><i>Girly,</i> her face said.  Warlock smirked.  Over the last few years, he’d come to understand himself better.  He’d met lots of people with lots of different gender identities and presentations and performances.   He was still he-I-guess, but he’d come to understand himself as a boy who just liked to dress in a way that most people interpreted as ‘feminine.’  He loved his kilts and skirts and palazzo trousers, he liked his hair long, he liked his eyeliner, and he loved his hats.  “’So’…?”</p>
<p>“It’s good to see you,” Harriet said instead and sat on the bench beside him, “Happy birthday.”</p>
<p>Warlock softened slightly, “Thanks.”</p>
<p>“You look well… healthy.  And your calves have bulked up!”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned, “Yeah!  I got mega biceps, too!”  He shrugged down his cardigan to show off his arms.  “Working on a farm will do that.”</p>
<p>“A farm?  You worked on a farm?”</p>
<p>“Yeahhhh,” Warlock tipped his head back to look at the sky with a misty smile, “I loved it there.  Well… I didn’t love it so much when I had to work when it was raining.  Or when it was minus-fifteen.  That wasn’t as much fun.  But I love the goats.  I’m gonna miss my goats so much!”</p>
<p>Harriet’s brows knit in puzzlement, “What did you do with… goats?”</p>
<p>“I milked them,” Warlock replied, “And I learnt how to make butter and how to take care of them and the chickens.  And I learnt how to weld, I can use an arc welder!   And I learnt how to drive the tractor and one day it broke down and Marion and I fixed it, we were so proud of ourselves!  And I learnt how to garden and grow my own vegetables and I learnt how to cook and how to do a budget.”</p>
<p>“That’s wonderful, sweetheart!” Harriet beamed, “Your father will be so proud of you!”</p>
<p>“<i>Really?</i>”</p>
<p>A leaden silence fell.   “Well… yes, he… he doesn’t know any of those things…” Harriet tried. </p>
<p>“I notice he’s not here.”</p>
<p>“…Something came up at the last minute, sweetie,” Harriet sighed.</p>
<p>“It’s my twenty-first birthday and I’m about to start university and he hasn’t seen me in four years and I agreed to see you both and he <b>still</b> can’t be arsed to show up?”</p>
<p>Harriet sighed again, “What are you taking at university?”</p>
<p>“Psychology. LGBT studies, complex PTSD and trauma recovery,” Warlock said, “I want to become a therapist.  After I graduated, I took two years gap learning how to manage the farm so I can do a therapy farm some day.”</p>
<p>Harriet’s smile was hesitant, “That’s wonderful.  Though, your father always hoped you would get a degree in business administration…”</p>
<p>“Daddy wanted a lot of things <i>and yet he’s not here.</i>”</p>
<p>Harriet was quiet for a moment.   “You didn’t part on good terms.  I think he… maybe he didn’t want to rock the boat any further.”</p>
<p>“You ‘<i>think</i>.’”  Harriet was silent.  Warlock shook his head.  “I wanted to give you guys a chance.  It’s been four years without me.”</p>
<p>“Honey, it’s not that I’m not proud of you…” </p>
<p>“But?”</p>
<p>The silence stretched out into awkward.  “We just… we just wanted the best for you, that’s all…”</p>
<p>Warlock rolled his eyes.  “Daddy wanted a clone.  You wanted a weapon to get back at him.”</p>
<p>“<b>Warlock!</b>” Harriet gasped.</p>
<p>“Putting me in <i>that place</i> was ‘the best’ for me?  A <b>conversion camp</b>?”</p>
<p>“I know, sweetheart, it was your father’s idea and I didn’t like it either…”</p>
<p>“You didn’t exactly stop him.  And you didn’t take me out of it.”</p>
<p>“Sweetie, you were getting confused.  That Ashtoreth woman got you all mixed up.   I should never have hired her-"</p>
<p>"But you wanted to stick it to Daddy."</p>
<p>"That...that's not... Still, I should have known better, I mean just- just <b>look</b> at you-"</p>
<p>Warlock stood up.  "We're done here," he said. </p>
<p>Harriet gaped at him, "Warlock, honey, no-"</p>
<p>"With that one statement, you just told me everything I need to know," Warlock said.</p>
<p>"Warlock, I... I wanted to apologise..."</p>
<p>"But for what?" Warlock fixed her with a piercing stare, "Because that one statement tells me you haven't changed anything.  You haven't changed your behaviour, you haven't changed your thinking that drives your behaviour, and you haven't done anything worth my forgiveness.  So what are you sorry <b>for?</b>  Are you even sorry?  For what you <i>did</i> to me?  Or are you only sorry that I figured it out?  Are you only sorry that you lost your favourite weapon against Dad?"</p>
<p>"Warlock..."</p>
<p>"What are you apologising <i>for</i>, Mother?"</p>
<p>"I... We know now that what we did was wrong and we had no idea that-"</p>
<p>"Really?  Why was it wrong?  What was wrong about it?"</p>
<p>"I- We only wanted what was best for you, sweetie-"</p>
<p>"What was wrong about it, Mother?  Why was it wrong?"</p>
<p>"I- W... We.. We didn't know it was that kind of camp, we... we thought... we thought it would straighten you out and show you the way, make you better..."</p>
<p>"Oh it made me <i>better</i>, alright, but not the way you wanted," Warlock said darkly. Silence stretched out between them.  "You just told me that your apology is worthless. Because what I heard was you still don't think that what you did was wrong, you still don't understand <b>why</b> it was wrong, and you haven't changed a thing.  So your apology is empty, all you're trying to do is get me back under your control, and I'm not going."</p>
<p>"Warlock!  Warlock, please...!  How am I to understand-"</p>
<p>"There are lots of websites that'll tell you why you're wrong and what you can do to make it right, Mother.  Look it up."  Warlock took a steadying breath, "But I'm not wasting any more time for this.  I got a party to go to and school to prepare for.  I made time for you and all you've given me is empty words.  Do your research, look it up, and when you actually understand why what you did was wrong, maybe I'll have time for you then."  He lifted his hat and scraped his hand through his hair.  "Have a nice visit in London, Mother."  </p>
<p>He turned and walked quickly out of the park before either of them could say anything else. </p>
<p>"That was very nicely done, Hellspawn," Crowley whispered near his ear.</p>
<p>Warlock's smile was watery, "If I throw up, I’ll never gonna get it off my shoes, will I?"</p>
<p>"Never," Crowley chuckled.  He slid around Warlock’s shoulders, bunting his head under Warlock’s chin. "You did that perfectly.  You told her what you expected, you told her why her apology wasn't acceptable, and you told her what she'd need to do to get another chance.  Muriel and Nuriel will be very proud of you.  <b>I'm</b> proud of you."</p>
<p>“It means a lot more coming from you,” Warlock said honestly.  He strode up the street towards where Crowley’s big black car sat waiting, opened the passenger side door and climbed inside.  </p>
<p>Crowley slid from his shoulders and pooled up on the driver’s seat, then shifted to his human shape and lifted his eyebrows above his sunglasses, “You need a moment first?”</p>
<p>Warlock nodded, gazing out the window back at the park bench.  His mother had already left.  “Thanks for being there with me,” he whispered, “When I talked to God two years ago… One of the things They said was you had always liked kids.”</p>
<p>Crowley shrugged, “Kids, well…. Always down for mischief, kids… Like writing naughty words on dinosaurs.”</p>
<p>Warlock grinned, “Oh God, you know about that…”</p>
<p>Crowley chuckled.  “What do you say?  You ready to go?  Adam’s at the university.  We’ll pick him up on the way, you two can have some snuggle time on the way back to Tadfield.”</p>
<p>Warlock felt the nauseating tension unknot at the thought of his wonderful boyfriend.  “Won’t be <b>much</b> snuggle time the way you drive,” he grinned wickedly.</p>
<p>“Oi!” Crowley laughed and put the car in gear.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0017"><h2>17. The Visions of the Future, part 2: The Apples of Tadfield</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“Arthur Young!  I want a word with you about your son, Adam!”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Arthur Young!  I want a word with you about your son, Adam!”</p>
<p>Arthur mouthed along with the words that he knew by heart by now, then pasted on his Concerned Father frown and turned, “Mr. Tyler, good to see you.  What’s he done now?”</p>
<p>“It’s about that young man of his.”  Arthur arched an eyebrow.  “I was talking to his Nanny and she seems to think it’s pretty serious.”</p>
<p>“It is,” Arthur nodded, “They were talking about rings and an outdoor wedding.  They were going to ask if they could hold their ceremony under your apple trees.”</p>
<p>“Rings and a wedding…!  What James and I would have given for rings and a wedding,” Mr. Tyler sighed mistily.  Arthur smiled.  “Well, that leads into what I wanted a word about.  Your son Adam, he’s, well he’s never been keen on leaving Tadfield, has he?”</p>
<p>Arthur sighed, “No, he really hasn’t.  The university’s been quite stressful on him.  Thank goodness he’s graduating soon.”</p>
<p>“And that young man of his, Warlock. The past few years, I’ve listened to him talk about his dreams for that ‘therapy farm’ of his and, well…  I’ve had estate agents come ‘round with buyers offering hundreds of thousands of pounds for my little property.  One of them even offered over a million pounds!  But that’s not much good to me <i>now</i>, is it?”</p>
<p>Arthur was silent for a few moments.  “It’s come back?”  </p>
<p>Mr. Tyler nodded, “I’m going in at the end of the week and I won’t be coming home again.   And I thought, your son Adam loves this town and these trees as much as I do and that ‘therapy farm’ idea… Little goats and chickens wandering among my apple orchard, people being healed… I thought, James would be so happy and, I think, so would I.  So, I’d like to give it to them, as a wedding present.”</p>
<p>Arthur was having a difficult time holding back his tears.  “Reg, they’ll love it.  They’ll absolutely love it and they’ll take good care of it.  Adam’s always loved your apple trees and five acres, why, that’s a perfect little patch for a small farm.”</p>
<p>“They remind me so much of James and I when we were that age.  So full of dreams and love,” Mr. Tyler sighed.  He glanced at Arthur, “D’you think it’ll be a bit… awkward?  With young Warlock being…?”</p>
<p>“Our biological son?  I can’t see why.  I mean, just about everyone in Tadfield already knows about our babies being mixed up at the hospital before it burned.  It’s a miracle that Warlock found his way back to us and we’re just happy to welcome him as our son-in-law.”</p>
<p>“Good… good… People can get strange ideas,” Mr. Tyler sighed.  Arthur managed not to bite his lip.  “His childhood was on a farm in Canada, he says?”</p>
<p>Arthur shook his head and smiled, “No no.  He spent his childhood at the American ambassador’s estate here in England.  He <i>grew up</i> on a farm in Canada.  And I have to say, I’m bloody proud of the man he’s grown up into.”</p>
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<a name="section0018"><h2>18. The Visions of the Future, part 3: A Special Place</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Summary for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
            <p>“<i>There’s a special place in Hell for you, Tad Dowling.  I’ll see to it <b>personally!</b></i>”</p>
          </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“THROUGH THERE.”</p>
<p>Tad turned to glance at his companion.  There wasn’t much to see but it unnerved him anyways.  Even more unnerving was the undertone of quiet amusement, as though he - she? They? It? - was having a quiet joke at Tad’s expense.   No matter, he had places to be.  He straightened his tie and pushed through the revolving door.</p>
<p>An incredibly mirrored floor that looked more like water.  Two escalators reflected in the floor.  There was a long queue for the front reception desk between the escalators but it was moving briskly enough.  Every few minutes, someone would move to the left-hand escalator which would take them….oh.  </p>
<p>Well.  At least <b>he</b> didn’t have to worry about <i>that.</i>  He straightened his tie again as he whispered the Lord’s Prayer.  Then he noticed the angel clothed all in white (well, off-white, more like cream or beige) waiting patiently nearby.  “Do I know you?  Wait, I do.. Back in England… you were one of the staff, the gardener… Francis, wasn’t it?”</p>
<p>“Brother Francis, yes,” the angel smiled, “I am the Principality Aziraphale and I’ve come to see you off to your final destination.”</p>
<p>Tad beamed - this was more like it!  “Yes, well!  I’m looking forward to joining you and your brethren in the Heavenly City.  Er, what’s in store for me up there?”</p>
<p>“Oh, you’ll get all that you deserve and more, Mr. Dowling,” the angel smiled.</p>
<p>There was that undercurrent of amusement again.  It was quite annoying. </p>
<p>The queue moved up a pace.  The next person stepped up to the desk and announced himself as “Reginald Philip Tyler.”</p>
<p>“So, uh,” Tad began, “They’re not going to hold it against me, are they?  That I, uh, snuffed it while, uh, y’know… snuffing?”  He mimed inhaling a line of substance. </p>
<p>The angel smiled again, “Oh, not at all!”</p>
<p>“Escalator on your right, sir.  There’s a notice here that someone named James will meet you at the door.”</p>
<p>“Thank you, young one!  Thank you so much!  And bless you!”  </p>
<p>The queue moved forward.  “I really did  my best, you know,” Tad said.  The Principality arched an eyebrow in silence.  “I had a son!  I had a great son, he was a fine boy son!  Until he, uh…”  The eyebrow arched higher.  “Look, I had to!  He went all weird, all wrong, he… Well, he’s not going up <b>there</b> if he keeps on like it!”</p>
<p>The angel looked up at the indicated right-hand escalator and smiled mistily as the old man was met by another man and they kissed in joyful reunion, then disappeared through the glass doors.</p>
<p>The queue moved forward.  Tad straightened his tie, stepped up to the desk and announced “Thaddeus Dowling the Third, Ambassador of the United States of America.”  The clerk barely looked at him but did look at the Principality who accompanied him.  The clerk’s fingers clicked over a computer and tapped the screen.  “Erm, what happens now?”</p>
<p>“They’re calling up your Akashic Record,” the angel explained, “This is the initial triage.  They’ll do a scan of your entire life, an initial count of all of your sins and virtues, and the balance will determine where you go.”</p>
<p>“Oh!  Well.  That’s alright.  I’ve been a friend of our Lord all my life!  I know where I’m going!”  There was that undercurrent of amusement again.  Really, it was getting quite annoying.  “What’s the big red button for?  Calling Security?  In case somebody gets mad, doesn’t like where they’re going?”</p>
<p>“Not exactly.”</p>
<p>“Here’s your result, sir,” the clerk said and turned the monitor. </p>
<p>Tad’s face fell as he stared at the balance indicated.  “Well,” he said nervously, “I accepted Jesus as my Lord and Saviour a long time ago and-”</p>
<p>“Just as you say, sir,” the clerk said.  And pushed the button. </p>
<p>The floor dropped out from under Tad’s feet and he disappeared, screaming.</p>
<p>Aziraphale, smiling, peered down after him and - oblivious to the shocked stares of the souls behind him - raised his hand and waved. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>If you combined Monty Hall with Beetlejuice and, well, Hastur, you still couldn’t come up with anything close to describing Hastur’s current suit.   He wore his hair out with his frog on top, an enormous floppy bow tie, and a deranged grin possibly stolen from the Joker.  Hastur’s appearance had always been disturbing but now he was giving even demons nightmares. </p>
<p>“You know, I don’t think he’s ever realised he was being punished,” Beelzebub commented. </p>
<p>“Probably for the best,” Crowley shrugged, “One person’s punishment is another’s paradise, I guess.”</p>
<p>“Yes, that’s what Penny said.  It’s given us quite a few ideas in new directions.  We’ve got several projects underway I think you’ll like.  We’re taking inspiration from that ‘Internet’ place.”</p>
<p>Crowley arched her eyebrow above her sunglasses.  Beelzebub was very literal and the results - such as this secondary triage room disguised as a game show studio - could be appallingly hilarious.  The bells rang and lights flashed and a door in the wall slid open to discharge a distraught woman.   “<b>SURPRISE!</b>” the Studio Audience chorused, “<b>WELCOME TO HELL!</b>”  “Oh? How so?” Crowley asked.</p>
<p>“We’re going with the ‘jury of your peers’ concept.  We’ve already identified several pits suitable for installing Trash Skips.  We’re in negotiations with Heaven for airspace privileges but it will take quite a while to modify the roof for the trebuchet.”</p>
<p>“Trebuchet?  What do you need a trebu- <i>Oh no…!</i>”  Crowley clapped her hand over her mouth.  Beelzebub’s face twisted the way it did when they were suppressing a smile.</p>
<p>“We calculate it should take them about eighteen minutes to reach the sun.”</p>
<p>The Studio Audience gibbered, “<i>She wants to speak to The Manager!</i> ShE wAnTs tO sPeAk tO ThE MaNaGeR!”</p>
<p>“He should be up next,” Beelzebub said. </p>
<p>“How long is the slide to get here?”</p>
<p>“About ten minutes.”</p>
<p>“<i>Nice.</i>”</p>
<p>The bells and gongs rang, the lights flashed, the door in the wall slid open, and Tad Dowling tumbled out, looking quite a bit more dishevelled than he had been.  </p>
<p>“<b>SURPRISE!  WELCOME TO HELL!</b>”</p>
<p>Tad threw his arm up to shield his face from the too-bright lights.  That was a mistake because it allowed him to see the lurid face of Hastur grinning down at him.  “Thaddeus Dowling the Third!” the Duke of Hell roared, “This is your Eternity!”</p>
<p>“I think we accidentally gave him his dream job,” Beelzebub shrugged, “It’s done wonders for morale though.  Everyone wants a chance to be in the studio audience.”</p>
<p>“What’s it going to be, Tad?” Hastur leered. </p>
<p>Tad stared wildly around at the jeering audience, the garish set, the too-bright lights, and the terrifying entity leaning over him.  “Th-There must be some mistake!  Jesus is my Lord and Saviour!  This is all wrong!”</p>
<p>“THeRe MuSt bE SoMe mIsTaKe!  <i><b>ThErE MuSt Be SoME MiStAkE!</b></i>” The Studio Audience screamed with laughter.  A door marked “There Must Be Some Mistake” flung itself open and Tad was pushed through.</p>
<p>Beelzebub turned and led the way out of the Studio.  “This way.  You’ll like this.”</p>
<p>Crowley’s sensible shoes clicked against the cold tile floor and she smirked, “Oh I’m looking forward to it.”</p>
<p>“It’s one of my favourite ways to get a break.  We can’t do it very often or it’ll spoil the illusion, so there’s a lottery for the privilege.  Stand here and then just stare into the camera.”</p>
<p>Crowley refreshed her lipstick, adjusted her hat, and stepped up. </p>
<p>*  *  *  *</p>
<p>The glass doors opened and two angels escorted Tad Dowling into Heaven. </p>
<p>It was beautiful.  All pristine white floors, open concept with a few pristine white walls, soft white lighting that served to complement the light from the endless floor-to-ceiling windows that looked out over every city in the world. </p>
<p>“It’s wonderful!  It’s just how I imagined it would be!” Tad breathed, “I knew there was a mistake!  Jesus is my Lord and Saviour!  I’ve been a friend of Jesus all my life!”</p>
<p>“You’re where you belong now, sir,” the angels smiled. </p>
<p>Tad walked forward, taking in the beautiful clean white atmosphere and the breathtaking views.  He found a pristine white couch and sat down to relax.  “Glorious, just glorious,” he murmured, looking around. </p>
<p>It was rather <i>emptier</i> than he had imagined, though, but he supposed that wasn’t really that surprising with the number of sinners in the world today.  It only reinforced that he belonged here.  He was one of the few. </p>
<p>Shouldn’t there be more angels, though?  The ones who’d brought him here had disappeared.  And something felt a bit <i>off</i> about them.  Maybe it was the smudged mascara? </p>
<p>It really was <i>empty.</i>  Wasn’t he supposed to be met by family members?  Surely his father had made it here, hadn’t he?  His mother?  She was a good Christian woman, surely she had made it up here?   Other members of the Church, even that old fellow who passed away last year?   Pastor Robbins, surely he was up here?  Where <i>was</i> everybody?</p>
<p>The view was so <i>glorious.</i>  He stared at it.  So beautiful.  All the cities of the world… </p>
<p>“Oh!  There <b>is</b> someone…”</p>
<p>Tad whipped around to see a man standing in the middle of the vast open-concept floor.  “Hello!” he beamed, “Thaddeus Dowling the Third, call me Tad!  Yes, I’ve just arrived!  Are you…?”</p>
<p>“Lawrence,” the man said.</p>
<p>“And how long have you been here, Lawrence?”</p>
<p>“I…. I don’t… really remember…”</p>
<p>“Well I suppose we don’t need to,” Tad agreed, “We’ve got all eternity, hey?  Just look at that gorgeous view!”</p>
<p>“Y-yes… only…” Lawrence swallowed, “Only, sometimes it…. I think…. I think it… changes…”</p>
<p>“What?”</p>
<p>“Only a split second, a fraction of a second… It’s like it… the view, it… it <i>flickers</i> and… and sometimes….”</p>
<p>“Sometimes?”</p>
<p>“Sometimes….. Someone… the view, it <i>changes</i> and someone’s <b>watching</b> us…”</p>
<p>“That… that can’t be right, it’s the view!  It’s the World!  Look at it, it’s all the cities of the world!”</p>
<p>“Yes…”</p>
<p>“This is <i>Heaven!</i>”</p>
<p>“Yes.  Yes, it, it <b>is</b> Heaven.”  Lawrence looked not entirely convinced.  “Welcome to Heaven.”</p>
<p>“Thank you!  Thank you, Lawrence!  Why, I’m certain that we’ll… Where’d he go?”  Tad looked around but the floor was empty again.  Still, Lawrence did say ‘us’ so there had to be more people here.  He frowned and started walking, wondering if he could get a beer.  Was beer allowed up here?  Wasn’t much of a Heaven if he wasn’t allowed beer.</p>
<p>Man, he just couldn’t get enough of that view!  So spectacular!   He looked around the empty, open-concept floor again, looking for anything that might resemble a bar fridge.  And out of the corner of his eye, the view <i>flickered.</i></p>
<p>Tad gasped in shock and fell back onto the floor. </p>
<p>“<i>There’s a special place in Hell for you, Tad Dowling.  I’ll see to it <b>personally!</b></i>”</p>
<p>He sat up, clutching his hand to his chest, feeling like he was having the cardiac arrest all over again as the words rang through his memory.   After a while, he peeked cautiously at the windows again.  The view was the view again, glorious and unchanging.  Except…</p>
<p>Except…</p>
<p>He could have sworn it <b>had</b> changed.  And for an instant, just an <i>instant</i>, he could have sworn he’d seen the face of the one person he’d hoped he’d never have to see again. </p>
<p>The face of Warlock’s nanny, Coraline Ashtoreth.</p>
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